


Earth-Warder

by Lannakitty



Series: Defenders of Azeroth [3]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Black Dragonflight, Bronze Dragonflight, Dragon Headcanon, Dragons, Gen, Kinda, Legion Spoilers if you squint, Not Canon Compliant, Novel Tie-in:War Crimes, Post War Crimes Novel, Team Dynamics, Teambuilding, Warlords of Draenor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2018-06-05 00:44:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 56,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6682603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lannakitty/pseuds/Lannakitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wrathion’s plans have been ripped apart but the Legion is still coming. Nothing to do but build again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1-8

**Author's Note:**

> This is an experiment in ficwriting intended to get me to write consistently. Entries will vary in editing and length. I am updating frequently on Tumblr ( variousandsundrywritings.tumblr.com ) and will add updates here as I complete blocks of text.
> 
> Wrathion-Centric fic! Will follow after the end of Mists of Pandaria and go into an AU of what he’s been up to during Warlords of Draenor. Also an attempt to resolve why he did what he did. Expect the black whelp to grouse about the Draenor expedition, attempt to find a better solution to help Azeroth, confront some of his own feelings and actions, and Action/Adventure as he reestablishes new plots.
> 
> Will take some some cues from Legion information and quests but very likely won’t follow closely (because ugh.)
> 
> Yes there will be Anduin :D 
> 
> Some bits of conversation text adapted from the novel War Crimes and told from Wrathion's perspective.

_"My blessing upon you will seem humble compared to those which have been bestowed upon the others: the managing of time, of life, of dreams and magic. I offer you the earth. The soil, the ground, the deep places. But know that the earth is the basis of all things. It is where we are rooted. Where you must come from, if you are to go to. Here is whence true strength comes. From deep places…within the world, and within oneself.”_ \- Blessing to the Black Aspect

 

[1]  
Wrathion scowled at the sky. The eternal sunset of the Timeless Isle bothered him. Sunsets bothered him. There was always something depressing about the end of a day; too many things left undone and another reminder that the Legion was coming and his time was running out. Prince Anduin wasn't even around to distract him with board games anymore. Wrathion scowled harder. That was Garrosh's fault. The damn fool.

Footsteps on the sand heralded the arrival of Kairozdormu in his elven guise. The bronze dragon crossed his arms as he looked out over the sea. The waves rippled unevenly, sometimes too slow, sometimes crashing rapidly. Wrathion's scowl deepened as the bronze remained silent. He didn't have time to waste. The bronze should have been thankful he'd even delayed his departure from the Isle so they might speak.

"Surely you didn't request my presence so we could look over an eternal sunset," Wrathion said, breaking the silence. "As romantic as this location is, I am only two and you're not exactly my type."

The bronze snorted a laugh. "I have a modest proposal for you, Black Prince, but not of that nature."

Wrathion waves a hand. "Speak then."

"First, a question. You appear to be displeased with the results of the Siege. Specifically with the Alliance's decision to allow Garrosh to stand trial in Pandaria. Is that the case?"

Wrathion snorted, a puff of smoke curling from his nose. It wasn't exactly a secret, his argument with Anduin had been loud, but it wasn't precisely tactful. "It does not bode well for Azeroth. Your proposal?"

"Right to the point then. I can appreciate that." The bronze inclined his head. "I believe the Alliance is too hesitant to stand against the Legion. But I think the Horde, at least as it exists now, has also proven too weak. We need something stronger. Something more tempered."

Wrathion's eyes slid from the uneven undulations of the sea to the bronze. The bronze continued to watch the sea.

"I think Garrosh is an example of how merciless the Horde could be. The Legion will grant no mercy. You agree, I think, that the Legion must be met with force. The Alliance cannot bring that to bear."

Wrathion gritted his teeth. "I imagine Garrosh be beheaded soon enough. What is your point?"

"Imagine a Horde with someone as driven as Garrosh at the head. Imagine the technological innovations he championed but given appropriate time to develop."

Such an image was not hard to imagine; Warmachines that clanked across battlefields, crushing dead foes underneath, warriors riding iron-bound beasts and self-propelled wagons, the skies blackened with burning industry. And probably lots of metal spikes.

"To what end?" Wrathion asked. He could envision a number of reasons why Karioz would present this image to him, but he wished to know the Bronze's reasoning.

"To the conquest of Draenor. Then Azeroth. Then Outland. Then, perhaps, more alternate versions of Draenor and Azeroth. Possibly even other worlds in the Great Dark. An army built to meet the Legion in battle, forged from conquest, finally united under a single banner. An _infinite army_."

Wrathion's lips curled back in a sneer. "I thought you were Bronze, not Infinite."

The bronze dragon's smile was slow and dangerous. "I am Bronze but I see the usefulness of those who have lost themselves to Nozdormu's eventual madness. They too can serve the Horde and thus Azeroth."

"Time travel is still the domain of the bronze flight. What do you want from me?"

"We both want the security of Azeroth. I know you treated with Champions of both sides and work with Alliance and Horde equally." He nodded to Right and Left who stood at a respectful distance, eyes always watching for threats. "What does it matter the banner that security comes under?"

"You may have all the time in the world, Karioz, but I do not," Wrathion snapped. "I've had years worth of planning disrupted and some of us need to get back to work."

"Peace, Black Prince," Karioz said, lifting a hand. "Garrosh will be held for trial. I need assistance breaking him out. From there I will take him elsewhen so he can forge a Horde greater than the one dismantled here."

"What do I get out of it?"

"Support for your plans for Azeroth. From myself and from Garrosh. There are also advantages that might become available should we succeed." He grimaced. "My vision of the timeways is not what it once was, but I can see several intriguing opportunities that will become available once Azeroth is united."

Wrathion scowled out at the sea. "Your vision of time is not what it was. What makes you so certain this is the right course?"

"What makes you so certain _your_ vision will come to pass," Karioz returned, arching a pale eyebrow.

Wrathion had to concede the point. "I will consider this."

"Do not take too long, Black Prince."

"What, we're running out of time?" Wrathion asked, arching a brow of his own.

The bronze smirked and made a sweeping bow. "The Legion comes." He straightened and turned away. "If you agree to assist, then meet me in the Vale tomorrow." He inclined his head once more. "Prince Wrathion."

"Kairozdormu." Wrathion returned to looking at the sea, dismissing the Bronze. The footsteps on the sand faded into the uneven cadence of the waves.

An infinite number of Hordes? That... that could be something. The Horde was close to being the powerhouse Azeroth needed now that the Alliance had proven to be too weak-stomached for what was required to keep their world safe.

 _Except perhaps we could be united by peace,_ said a small internal voice. It sounded far too much like the damnable Prince of Stormwind.

Wrathion gritted his teeth. If different choices had been made, if he'd been born earlier perhaps he could have had a greater effect. The world was too far gone now. Honestly he'd hoped the Alliance would subjugate the Horde.

The Tauren would find a home easily as the most respected group. The Blood Elves had been speaking with Wrynn before Garrosh had set off Dalaran's Council. The Orcs and Trolls would be a harder sell but the Orcs had been subjugated before and had survived. The Banshee Queen would have likely taken her people and left, but the other members of the Horde had little love for the Undead and routing them from their Undercity would have been possible. As long as the trade princes got their fair share, the Goblins would work for anyone. And, selfishly, he'd have been able to retain a valuable human ally in a key position to influence policy.

Once the Legion arrived, the bitter pride would be set aside for grim determination as it had been for Deathwing. But one side would not bend knee to the other without a clear victory. The campaign in Icecrown had proven that. Varian Wrynn had led an opportunity go. The fool.

Clearly Anduin already had too much influence; just the wrong kind. 

Wrathion didn't like Garrosh, but his rule had been effective at building the Horde war machine. Garrosh wouldn't have shied away from tough choices as Anduin's father had. Pity the elder Wrynn hadn't listened to Proudmoore. Now that she wasn't talking about useless peace, which could be ripped away on a whim, she actually had some good ideas. The incident at Wrathgate had shown how truly fragile "peace" could be. Better to conquer and leave no doubt.

Unleashing Garrosh on Draenor would be a gamble, but the pressing urgency of his vision itched between his scales. He'd removed his own father from Azeroth and built a quiet network of agents but his plans and maneuvering had come to nothing. Jokes about time travel with Bronze dragons aside, he was running out of time. He could feel it the way he felt the steady, slow heart-beat flow of molten rock below the surface.

Wrathion turned from the sea towards the landing which would return him to the mainland. "We're leaving," he commanded. His bodyguards fell in on their respective sides. There was much to consider and for him to decide.

[2]  
The Vale was not as it was. An ugly scar had been torn from the heart of the valley and sickly, pale energies still stained the ground. Wrathion perched on the saddle before his bodyguard, talons digging into the leather as the gryphon's wings beat a steady cadence. Right's beast soared overhead but the details were easy for a dragon's eyes to pick out. Pandaren as well as members of the Horde and Alliance worked to cleanse the vale. Some were tilling soil and planting while others were using their Shamanistic or Druidic gifts to cleanse the land. Others were simply hunting manifestations of the Sha and dispatching them with blade and spell.

 _See? It can be done if we work together,_ Wrathion imagined Anduin would have said. They were probably doing it for a reward, he thought with a snort. As they passed overhead a group of Undead got into an argument with some Night Elves. He turned away as weapons were drawn and some nearby Pandaren ran to intercede.

Peace? Not even for gold and favor with the Celestials. Wrathion snorted again and turned his head towards their destination.

Kairoz awaited them at the far end of the Valley, perched upon a rock in his elven guise. Wrathion imagined it was partially not to draw attention and partially because human fingers were so damned useful at manipulating small objects. Granted they took awhile to get used to, but they had their advantages. Karioz was tinkering with something small and golden. He sat tailor style on the rock and a fabric pouch with many minute tools lay in his lap. Golden energies flowed in and out of the device he was working on, catching the sun. Even at this distance Wrathion's sharp eyes had trouble making out what it was the bronze was working on, though. The gryphon landed smoothly and Wrathion lifted into the air to hover before the older dragon.

"I have decided your idea has merit but I will have your assurance I will have Garrosh's support." He landed on the next rock over, putting him at eye level with the bronze dragon.

Kairoz's eyes blinked at him then focused. He grinned. "You have my word, Black Prince. And to help seal our agreement, I am going to give you a gift." He held up the device. It looked somewhat like a sailor's astrolab had mated with a gnomish pocket watch and been dipped in gold. The center of the device held a very small hourglass with sand that glowed. Gears within gears surrounded the vial of sand. The number and orientation of the gears seemed to shift and change when Wrathion wasn't looking.

"A trinket?" Wrathion sneered as he attempted to discern the device's use on his own.

"A tool." He finished tightening something deep in the exposed heart of the device with a tool then nodded to himself. "Once I have seen Garrosh's new start, I will return and instruct you in its use." Kairoz closed the device and the many rings settled against one another until it looked like an inscribed medallion with an hourglass in the center. He held it out towards Wrathion.

Wrathion shifted into his human form and took the medallion. The metal was warm to the touch and hummed with the somewhat scratchy power of the bronze flight. The sand in the hourglass did not move. "A tool of your flight?"

"One of my own design. Consider this as part of your payment and a show of my support for your plans. I have imbued this device with some of my own power, given freely to your use. Think of it as a key, Black Prince, one that may yet open many doors you cannot even see. Its power is limited so I would keep it safe until you decide to use it."

"What, exactly, does it do, Kairoz? You will not tell me how to use it now?"

"No. You and I both have duties to attend to but there will be time later." The Bronze grinned askance at Wrathion as he ordered his tools and put them away. "And consider it half my payment up front. A guarantee you will see this task to the end."

Wrathion snorted. "As you like." He slipped the disk into a pocket. "So what is my expected part in your grand plan."

"I know you have been invited to witness the trial by Prince Anduin of Stormwind."

Wrathion crossed his arms and shot a glance at Right who scowled. His private correspondence was supposed to be just that; private. Right took charge of such things for him and she was not pleased.

"For a bronze dragon you appear to enjoy wasting the time of others, Kairoz. Get to the point."

The bronze sighed. "I am not the only bronze Dragon to be assigned to assist in the trial. While my own magnificent skills were enough to craft one of the tools the court will be using, the Celestials have decided that each side should have their own representative from the bronze. Are you familiar with Chronormu?"

"Bronze dragon who looks like a little gnome woman? Yes, I am familiar. She is one of the more powerful dragons of your flight is she not?" Wrathion asked, apparently studying his nails. He could see the bronze stiffen ever so slightly out of the corner of his eye.

"The same," Karioz said, his voice carrying none of the reaction Wrathion had seen. "It wouldn't do for one side to have a lesser dragon than the other, of course."

"Of course," Wrathion agreed. 

"You will need to subdue her."

Wrathion looked up from his nails. "What?"

"Chronormu's addition is somewhat new, hence the limited notice to you and the need for speed. The trial begins tomorrow as you know. I do not think it will be difficult to subdue her in her mortal form. Trapping her someplace where she does not have the space to transform will limit her. Knocking her out will also prevent her from acting." He pursed his lips. "You could also possibly kill her."

Wrathion frowned. "Will it be necessary?" While if it was required he would do so, but he greatly disliked the notion that he might be seen as some sort of mercenary, some assassin for hire by other dragons; a pawn used to kill rivals. He was no-one's pawn.

"Situational," Karioz said, his eyes glowing gold and expression distant. "This trial is a great confluence of decisions and possibility. The timestream is murky, the details clouded though I see the direction the river takes." He smirked. "To abuse a metaphor."

Wrathion nodded. "When?"

"Before the sentencing. All eyes will be on Garrosh and the Celestials. Subdue her just beforehand and make your own departure. I have made other arrangements for myself and Garrosh."

"You realize that leaders and champions of Azeroth, Horde, Alliance and Pandaren, will be present. The Celestials are not without power and we will be in Xuen's temple." Wrathion preferred not to offend one of Pandaria's wild gods if he could help it. He had enough trouble without courting vengeance from such a being.

"I have arranged for a distraction, Black Prince. If you fear retribution from the White Tiger then I suggest you withdraw now and tend to your squeamish stomach in that tavern you so favor."

Wrathion's lips curled up in a sneer then he forced his face to return to a neutral expression. "I remain committed." As long as he didn't kill anyone, he doubted the White Tiger would be too angry. The Legion's approach would vindicate his actions in the long term.

"Good. I leave the details to you and your compatriots. I will give you a signal as to when you will need to strike." He turned to leave, walking away so he had the space in which to transform. The dismissal was clear to Wrathion.

"You had best not betray me," Wrathion snapped at his back. How dare the bronze treat him so!

Karioz transformed, suddenly towering over Wrathion and his guards. Right and Left fell into place at his sides. Wrathion lifted his chin and glared at the older dragon. He remained in his human form which had the benefit of being taller even if it was less dignified than his natural scales.

"Betrayal will not come from me, Black Prince," Karioz said, shaking his massive head. "Great things were done on Azeroth when the flights were united. It will take great things to protect this world still. I will see you soon." He gathered his feet under him and leapt into the air, huge wings carrying him away. His scales flashed golden in the sunlight then he was somehow gone between one heartbeat and the next.

Wrathion growled under his breath. "Tie the gryphons."

"Your highness?" Right asked.

"I am in the mood for some hunting," he said then stalked in the direction of the most damaged area of the vale.

[3]

He found his first target after a short stalk towards the heart of the Vale; a many limbed creature of angles and sickness. Fluid yet chitinous, it was an alien creature born of a dead evil. Wrathion slew the sha manifestation with quick efficient strokes of his daggers. He had been taught by a master bladesman after all. He burned his kill with dragon flame then continued onwards.

Right and Left followed in his wake, assisting as needed and protecting his flanks. He avoided the shaman and druids, choosing instead to venture into the areas still most affected. There was a sickness in the earth that eased as each manifestation died, yet the soil remained tainted. Garrosh had caused this here. He had poisoned the earth with his actions. The same sickness that had led to the death of his father and his entire flight. Leaving him alone. The only one left sane to hold the Charge. 

Wrathion killed another manifestation. Then another. He'd not practiced his bladework in a while but the steps and strikes he remembered from his first lessons came back as he moved. Strike. Parry. Feign. Dodge. Strike. Parry. Feign. Dodge. StrikeParryFeignDodge. Strikeparryfeigndodgestrikeparryfeigndodge.

Cutting a swath across the Vale in a daze, Wrathion's attention was drawn to angry shouts and the clash of steel close by. Looking up from his latest kill he saw the same groups from earlier and this time they had allies. The Pandaren forces were trying to diffuse the situation to apparently little avail.

Wrathion turned on his heel and stalked towards the combatants. An Undead warrior was exchanging blows with a human in heavy plate, their respective healers tossing their own spells as well as insults to one another. A Pandaren wearing the tabard of the Golden Lotus was trying to get the two to stop fighting, lest they rouse the Sha. It was too late though, a larger creature was emerging from the ground and many smaller ones after it. None of them had noticed.

He stalked into the impromptu combat ring, drew a deep breath then roared flame. The two warriors dove away, shouting curses. The others paused in shock. Wrathion spared a glare for each warrior and spoke into the sudden silence.

"Idiots."

He threw himself at the rising sha as it roared. Right and Left followed in his wake, their own weapons brought to bear against the creature. He struck and feigned, avoiding slashing claws and gnashing teeth. He used his fire sparingly but to great effect. The Horde and Alliance joined the the battle.

This place should not be filled with sha corruption. This should have been a sealed vault containing the heart of a dead god. Garrosh had destroyed the Vale to revive it. Wrathion struck out at the largest manifestation with yell. His blade struck true and the creature began to topple. He lept off the body and landed, looking for another target. He found a smaller manifestation advancing on a downed priest. Wrathion struck it way from the Undead then took two quick steps to engage with one about to overpower a dwarf.

He slashed and cut with his knives then willed power into them so they blazed with the heat of the deep core of the world. The sizzle as they touched the Sha was a pleasant sound. Better was the death rattle as the creatures died. The Vale had been corrupted and he was going to free the man who'd been responsible. But the gain would be Azeroth's future. He slashed and struck. Conquest would forge the unity needed. He whirled and a sha that had advanced on him died, struck by a bullet from Left's weapon. Another died to Right's blades before they could strike an unsteady Pandaren monk.

Wrathion felt the ground shift before the largest creature appeared. It shifted the bedrock and soil, a wave of foulness and corrupted wrong heralding its arrival. It emerged from the ground and howled sanity-ripping rage. The impromptu warband paused before it. Wrathion could see eyes widen in terror and ears fold back. That would not do.

"To me!" he called, standing over the body of his latest kill, one glowing blade lifted. They didn't listen, unable to hear over the sound of their own pounding hearts and the screech of the manifested creatures. That simply would not do! He drew on the powerful healthy warmth of the world deep below, deeper than even this layer of corrupt rock and soil. **"Warriors of Azeroth, to me!"** he bellowed. They turned and he could feel the fire kindle in their hearts, see their eyes blaze. The group responded with war cries, weapons raised against the monster. Wrathion launched himself into battle. 

He could feel each footstep on the ground as the others followed in his wake. The creature turned to face him. He made a claw with one hand and thrust it upwards. The ground responded with sharp spikes of earth that impaled the beast. They didn't last but they wounded and distracted the manifestation. His motley warband descended on the creature. It attempted to draw on their fear once again, but the power found little purchase. Spirits of fire and earth were called, the Light was invoked and shards of ice joined fireballs in the battle. Vines grasped from below and piercing moonlight speared from above. Blade and fist destroyed supporting limbs and the creature was brought down, its howls of anger turned to distress then silenced as the two warriors who'd been fighting landed final shattering blows.

Wrathion looked around, breathing heavily. He felt cold. Drained. The earth was still sick and he did not know how to heal it. The Legion still came and he did not know how to stop it. The only option before him involved the freedom of a useful psychopath who might be ruthless enough to get the job done. Wrathion hated.

"Fools," he growled.

The only sounds now were the creak of armor and heavy breathing as the combatants looked at one another, dazed expressions on every face. Wrathion noted them only distantly. He held out his blades and Right took them; they would be too hot to sheathe for some time and he wanted to fly. He nodded back in the direction of the gryphons then turned.

A Pandaren Monk stood in his way. He bowed. Good but Wrathion did not have the patience for even the monks. Wrathion brushed past him. He shifted into his true form and hovered for a moment.

"Fools," he said again, then flew in the direction of the mounts.

He beat Right and Left but not by much. He sat on Left's gryphon, claws flexing into the leather with soft popping sounds.

"We will secure a place to retreat to once the trial is over. Tomorrow we are expected at Xuen's temple," he said. The two bodyguards exchanged looks then bowed.

"And the Black Talons?" Right asked.

"We will remain in discreet contact. Those who might abandon the cause because of the trial aren't worth having around anyway."

They bowed again.

[4]

 

"A cart?"

"Yes, my Prince."

"They want me to ride in a cart."

"That is correct, Your Majesty."

"Drawn by yaks."

"I am told they are of a high pedigree."

"..."

"Even the King of Stormwind and the Warchief of the Horde have ridden in these carts."

"Yaks."

"If you would get into the cart, Your Majesty?"

"But yaks?"

* * *

The assembly at the trial was astounding in its variety. Never before had there been such an assemblage of leadership on Azeroth in one place. Yet despite what Anduin would have claimed, the people here were there for blood. Too bad they were going to be disappointed, Wrathion thought with a silent smirk. He found a seat as far from Alexstrasza and her sister as possible. It gave him the added benefit of having his back closer to the wall and gave him a good view of the proceedings. The distance was no issue for his superior eyes, even in this form. Right and Left settled into their respective sides and watched the crowd with scowls. Tension was thick in the room, as was a predatory anticipation.

Anduin gave him a small smile and covert wave from across the room. The Prince of Stormwind was seated between his father and Archmage Proudmoore, whom he called aunt. Seated beside the Archmage was Kalecgos. Interesting. All the flights were represented yet not in conflict. This likely hadn't happened in ten millennia or so.

Wrathion smiled in acknowledgement of the other Prince then turned to look at Jaina who was staring at him intently. She had lost much to Garrosh and Wrathion had no doubt she wished to see him dead. He almost felt sorry he would have to disappoint her. Anduin had learned his more peace bent attitudes from Jaina; yet he could see the desire for vengeance in her eyes. The Lady of lost Theramore, once one of the leading voices for peace had called for conquest. He smiled. If anything, Lady Jaina Proudmoore calling for blood, for Varian to dismantle the Horde as had been reported to him, showed his course was the true one. 

He turned his attention to the proceedings and sat back to watch the drama unfold.

* * *

By the end of Velen's testimony Wrathion was grateful when Taran Zhu called for a respite. As fascinating as the proceedings had been, he wanted to get up and stretch his wings. Slipping through the crowd he made his way in the direction of the fewest people. He was about to shift into his natural form when he spied Prince Anduin at one of the overlooks. He considered flying off, but his feet took him towards the human instead. Their less-than-cheerful parting before had felt like snagged scales; rough and itchy. It was a loose thread and Wrathion preferred his business to be orderly. And, perhaps, he'd missed having the company of someone who was almost a peer.

"Do you wish Solitude, or may I join you?" He asked from the archway. It was polite to inquire as Anduin had been here first. He was heartened to receive a smile in reply, though Anduin's face was tight with pain. No doubt his injuries were bothering him again.

They spoke of Velen's testimony and the case High Priestess Whisperwind was building. He thought it odd, the way she was choosing to build her case based on the actions of others. Anduin pointed out Garrosh did not have the excuse of having drunk demon's blood. Still, painting all orcs, as Tyrande seemed to be doing, with the same brush was... He didn't like it. Too often he was lumped in with the likes of Onyxia and Deathwing. He might be related but he was a perfect and _uncorrupted_ black dragon.

"Nuance is required," Wrathion concluded with a self-satisfied nod.

"You always think nuance is required," Anduin practically snapped. 

That was somewhat shocking as he rarely seemed to lose his temper. Wrathion could only laugh. Wrathion tried to impart his view of the world to the other prince, that while all things were mutable, some things were more solid than others. Bedrock would eventually be worn away by time and tide, but for awhile it was solid. Lasting. Nothing was ever truly solid, universal and everlasting. The world was chaotic and subject to change. One sought out the bedrock but accepted it would shift eventually. He thought perhaps he was finally getting through when Anduin turned to him. The pain in his eyes was surprising. Perhaps a deep discussion about the feasibility of fundamental truths wasn't welcome when Anduin was clearly in pain.

"Wrathion? Do you think of us as friends?" he asked, surprising the dragon again.

Friends? Were they? Were the late night debates, shared pots of tea and talking history or science or nothing of consequence at all what friends did? His Titan-given database did not have an entry for such things but perhaps it was so. And yet, he had a Charge to uphold and as much as he enjoyed Anduin's company, Azeroth too precedence. But as he had been saying one built firmly where they could and accepted that the ground would likely shift eventually.

"Yes. As much as I can have a friend, at any rate," he finally answered.

The prince grimaced either in response or in pain. "Then can we just stay here in silence for a while? As friends?"

"Why yes, of course." Wrathion said then spoke no more. He shifted into his natural shape and lept onto the thick chain railing, stretching his wings. Anduin paid him no mind and continued to observe the horizon almost meditatively. When the end of the Respite Period was called, Anduin appeared to feel better but Wrathion felt, if anything, slightly irritated.

 

[5]

On the second day of the trial, Prince Anduin Wrynn was called to the stand. He made his way down to the stand with commendable dignity, though Wrathion noted the white-knuckled grip on the cane he carried. Garrosh was the reason for the cane and the reason the human prince had ended up convalescing at the tavern. This was going to be interesting. He caught his friend's eye and Anduin appeared to find something amusing as he sat in the witness stand.

From the first part of Anduin's testimony, he painted Garrosh as someone who didn't understand all the nuances of leadership. There was more than the battlefield. Leadership involved a lot of planning and logistics. Something that Garrosh had begun to understand as he forged the Horde into something even more militaristic.

The second part of the testimony showed the moment where Anduin confronted Garrosh over the Divine Bell. His friend had been both brave and foolish. He shouldn't have run in when he did and not alone. Far better to come in with a larger force and utterly beat the enemy so they could not rise to confront you again.

"There is much I do not know about this artifact," Garrosh of the vision stated. "The weak-willed cannot control this sha energy, but I _will_ master it." Then he had bid his people to leave him to think.

Anduin's testimony concluded with the Prince stating his belief that Garrosh could change.  
Wrathion pursed his lips as he considered the vision and the other Prince's words. If Garrosh changed, would he be able to lead the Horde as Kairoz wanted? Possibly not. He would be as weak as Varian was now. But the Orc leader had been learning and had a drive to understand. Granted he'd been driven to understand the powers of the Sha and the Old Gods, but he had been relentless in his pursuit and in the end had mastered it for himself. That was commendable even if Wrathion was opposed to the source.

Garrosh was dangerous and bloodthirsty, but he'd inspired the Horde to great industry and creation in a short period of time. He was driven to understand that which he did not know. He was still dangerous but pointed against the Legion as Kairoz suggested, against an enemy common to all of Azeroth, he would thrive. And Wrathion would let him live only so long as he continued to be useful.

* * *

Wrathion met with Kairoz late that evening at the Bronze Dragon's invitation. They met in their natural forms, away from the temple.

"After today's testimony I wanted to see if you were still committed, Prince Wrathion," the bronze asked.

Wrathion glared. "Yes but I hope you understand what a risk Garrosh is."

"Your friend gives testimony, you see the moment he was hurt and you have doubts."

"I had doubts from the outset. You and I both know Garrosh is dangerous. He's still the best chance to create powerful Horde, but he may need to be eliminated. Are you aware of that?"

"I am aware of the dangers. I have foreseen many and taken measures."

Wrathion narrowed his eyes. "I think I will need more than that Kairoz. What assurances can you make? What are these plans you have in place? I refused to be a pawn of the Reds. I will now be a pawn of Bronze or Infinite."

The bronze huffed and stared down at him. Wrathion held his ground. If he was going to commit to such a gamble, and the trial had only highlighted how much of a gamble it was, then he needed to know more of the plan.

"As you like. The Celestials will not be able to interfere. The Sha of the land will prevent them from acting against my agents. The emotions stirred by the trial already have had impact and I am confident they will not intervene. I have also made arrangements for reinforcements from Garrosh's supporters to arrive at the appropriate moment."

"Which is fine for now, but what about when you take him whenever you plan to do so?"

"We will be going to Draenor and stopping the Legion from taking the orcs. It denies them the might of the Horde and gives us time to build."

"Garrosh is driven and does not listen to others. What makes you so certain he will listen to you? What leverage do you have?"

"I have foreseen myself successful. I have seen the Iron Horde he forges. At Garrosh's heart he has a need for approval from his father. He will at once gain that approval and save his father from choosing to drink Manneroth's blood. He has a deep love for the the Horde and for glory and honor."

"And surrounded by his people and praised as an intervening savior, he will have those ideas reinforced. His ego will feed on the idea of the successful conquering Horde," Wrathion mused. Garrosh had done everything for his own ego and the Horde was an extension of that. Even his adaptation and learning had been prompted by feeding that ego.

"You see clearly, young Prince," Kairoz praised. "But even then I have some backup plans. The medallion I gave to you is one such plan but will have use even if it isn't needed as such." He eyed Wrathion. "Are you satisfied?"

"For now." Wrathion turned and flew away. The reasoning was sound but he would still keep an eye on Garrosh. He would consider the bronze's reasoning and attempt to find the flaws.

[6]

_"What in Khaz'goroth’s name happened?" Wrathion shouted._

_Anduin's smile faltered. "I'm sorry?"_

_"You should be sorry! It was probably your influence that has shattered all my careful planning!" Wrathion bellowed. "Even your auntie Jaina see the need for conquest! I practically handed the Horde to your father on a platter and what does he do?"_

_Anduin's expression closed off into one of polite neutrality but Wrathion could see the flash of anger in his blue eyes. "He showed mercy."_

_"Mercy? Mercy!" Wrathion actually spat, the phlegm came out hot like lava and sizzled when it hit the mist-chilled stone. "The world cannot stand against the Legion unless we are united!" He stalked a little ways away down the beach towards the water._

_"Because my father has shown mercy, I believe that peace talks are possible, now more than ever," Anduin said, his voice carrying over the waves. Wrathion turned to sneer._

_The prince of Stormwind's chin was lifted and his shoulders straight, though he had both hands resting on the cane he still carried. His eyes held Wrathion's in a steady gaze, unblinking, unflinching. Wrathion had seen statues of warriors standing thus with their swords and they had not looked half as determined. Wrathion felt something stir in his chest, an odd relief and lightness. A spooling feeling of hope._

_Time shifted sideways and the warrior before Wrathion was a grown adult in plate adorned with otherworldly materials, the glow and helm obscuring his face; all but the determined blue eyes. The warrior before him was filled with the Light._

_Fel green suddenly suffused his vision and the golden warrior suddenly ceased to exist, turned to golden sand on the wind. Many banners were raised against the Legion but the rain of green fire consumed them all._

_In the space of a heartbeat the image shifted back to Anduin, the teenage human prince, standing on the shore of the Timeless Isle. Wrathion knew what the next line was; he'd said it only days before._

_"Peace cannot bring Azeroth united under one banner! The Legion comes and we cannot be divided! All my plans have been utterly shattered because your father was too weak-willed to do what was necessary!"_

_Anduin took a deep breath then let it out. "I disagree and I wish you could see what I do. We are stronger because of one another."_

_Wrathion sneered silently, the Prince's words far too close to the simple waiter who'd dared to speak to him like a mere child._

_"I'm returning home, now. I hope that you will come to see my way of thinking, Wrathion. Azeroth will be better able to meet the Legion if we are not at one another's throats. With Garrosh gone, we might be able to build that single banner you've spoken of."_

_"Peace is fragile!"_

_"Conquest breeds resentment."_

_"The Legion will not wait for you to play parlor games!"_

_Anduin sighed, world weary and Wrathion felt a deep ache in his own bones hearing the sound. He tilted his head to the side as he looked at Wrathion with... pity._

_"You've done more to promote peace and cooperation than most of the people sitting in leadership positions. You could do so much to inspire but you're hiding in shadows, scheming and manipulating. Why don't you-"_

_"Step into the Light? Let the Light take my troubles? Trust in it that all will be well?" Wrathion snapped. "I think not. Your Light is just another power to be manipulated. Believe what you wish, but the rest of us have to make our own destinies manifest."_

_Anduin closed his eyes and appeared to master himself. With a calm serenity Wrathion hadn't thought the other Prince could command, Anduin lifted his head and regarded Wrathion steadily. "Goodbye for now. I hope and pray you come to understand we're stronger together than apart. I leave you to your scheming but you're welcome in Stormwind when you are less ill-tempered and ready to discuss things rationally without being insulting." Anduin turned and walked away without another word. He collected the guards who'd stood at a respectable distance but who'd no doubt heard every word._

_"Ill-tempered?" Wrathion sputtered. He growled to himself as the other prince walked out of sight._

"My prince?"

The dream shattered around Wrathion and the whelp looked up from the nest of blankets he'd made of his bedding. Stretching his forelimbs and wings, he yawned.

"Yes, Left?" he asked as he extricated himself from the bedding. The dream had been odd. When he'd spoken with Anduin in the days before the trial he'd not seen such fanciful images. It was somewhat nightmarish actually.

"Breakfast is ready for you. The today's session starts in two hours." The orc inclined her head then retreated.

Wrathion yawned mightily and finished stretching out. Perhaps he would have Tong forego the fish rolls tonight. The previous evening had given him strange dreams.

[7]

If someone had told Wrathion that he would feel pity for a red dragon, if he would feel fury on behalf of one, he would have laughed in their faces and had his Black Talons toss them out of the Tavern. Today he knew better.

Wrathion had returned to the Vale to slay minor sha and vent his rage. Right and Left were hard pressed to keep with him, but had wisely remained silent. Wrathion used the sick feeling in the earth to wind his way through the Vale, finding the worse emanations and dispersing them ruthlessly. Night had fallen but he had excellent low-light vision and he could tell where every root and rock was.

"Oof! Shit!" 

His bodyguards weren't as lucky. He whirled and snarled as Right tripped for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"If you cannot keep your feet, then you should leave," he snapped.

Right's face became a blank mask. "I have a duty to see you safe, Your Majesty," she replied in an even tone. Left's face was equally impassive. 

"Argh, fine!" he stalked towards where they had left their mounts. His bodyguards were doing the best they could. It was not their fault they weren't dragons. "We're going to get dinner at the Tavern," he ordered. Three more manifestations died on the way back to their mounts.

He growled and sat before Right as a way of apology. As the gryphon flew, Wrathion chewed on the testimony of the fifth day. He had not expected Tyrande to call Alexstrasza to the stand to testify. He'd heard of what had transpired for the reds held in Grim Batol, but to hear it from her mouth was... He seethed silently. What the orcs had done was a crime that called to his soul to see righted. He had not been an egg so long ago and to hear of orcs shattering children across their parents... And these were the people Garrosh chose over the Tauren or the Trolls.

They landed and Wrathion sent his bodyguards in with an order for food and the threat of dire repercussions if his yak steak got within ten feet of a flame. He shifted and took flight, needing to seethe privately. 

He'd not wanted to think of Alexstrasza as a person; better for her to be a faceless puppetmaster. Hearing her story made him feel some sympathy, despite his desire not to feel such. He'd known Rhea's methods were largely devised on her own, though she had the blessing of her flight leader to conduct her experiments. But had what Rhea done to his own mother been so much different than what had happened to Alexstrasza? Had Alexstrasza even known the details? It seemed, as much as he was loath to admit it, that she would not have condoned forced egg laying after she herself had been subject to it. How could a red dragon allow such a thing if they were all about preserving life? Except that was what Rhea had been doing after a fashion. This wasn't about breeding war mounts, but had been about trying to restore the black dragons. Rhea had sacrificed one of her own children to save his egg. If she'd managed to perfect her process there would have been more dragons like him. Possibly even volunteers from the dragons who weren't as far gone into the voices and madness. Maybe. It was all speculation and it made him feel slightly queasy as well as angry. 

Wrathion settled onto a rock a little ways away from the inn to brood. Alexstrasza had said she would forgive the orc who murdered her child, but he'd heard she'd eaten Nekros once she'd been freed. Was this more hypocrisy? Yes, probably, he decided. Though he probably would have done the same. It was the wiser course of action not the forgiveness she'd mentioned in her testimony. Unless Nekros fell into the same category of danger Deathwing and Malygos had fallen into. 

Wrathion blew out a jet of flame. Alexstrasza and her reds shouldn't have been in that situation to begin with. The black flight wasn't there to protect her when they should have been. His claws dug into the rock under his feet. The black flight had created the instrument of her capture. It was all the fault of the Old Gods. The Reds had taken his Charge because there was no one left from his flight to uphold it. Except he was there now. A single black dragon. A whelp. Only a few years older than the ones shattered on Alexstrasza's face. He hunched over, scowling into the middle distance.

Large wings in the darkness and the heavy thump of a landing announced the arrival of another dragon. Wrathion bared his teeth at the approaching bronze.

"Good. You're here and can explain how you think that creature will give you and me an ounce of respect?"

Kairoz huffed and tossed his head, but Wrathion was fed up. Right had a phrase for situations like this. He was being treated like a mushroom; fed on shit and kept in the dark. He had enough of other dragons treating him like a mere child when he had already accomplished more than adults with several millennia had ever done. If he was not given proper respect by Kairoz then Wrathion doubted he would get any from Garrosh. Garrosh had segregated the Horde which was fine with Wrathion, except he also had chosen to ally with the Dragonmaw. Knowing the full scale of the sins of the Dragonmaw clan, Wrathion was less than inclined to believe Garrosh would be as amenable as the bronze seemed to believe he would be.

"I am going to need something more," Wrathion said. "What do you have for me that is worth hanging everything on this self-serving psychopath?"

"Do you currently have better plans?" Kairoz drawled.

Wrathion hissed at him, wings flaring. "If you have nothing then I believe our business is concluded. I will find my own way."

"Wait," Kairoz held up a paw. "Wait. I can tell you what my plans for the medallion are."

"Speak. And it better be worth the risk."

"I explained it is a key. But it is also a map and a guide."

"Oh for the love of Khaz'goroth's beard-" Wrathion gathered his feet to take off.

"I think I can restore the black flight."

Wrathion paused. "What?"

"The medallion. You still have it?"

"Yes. Explain."

"I scoured the timeline. I believe I may have found when the corruption took hold of your flight. I marked several places in time before then. Places where there are uncorrupted black dragon eggs that can be taken and brought forward."

Wrathion opened his mouth then closed it again, thinking. "But they would be eggs and the Legion is coming soon! Even if they hatched beforehand they would be younger than I am!"

Kairoz took a step forward, leaning towards the black whelp. "But all of time is open to us, Black Prince. I have told you I wished to find infinite numbers of Hordes from many timeways. We can take those eggs, and you yourself, back into the past on one of those Draenors. I'm somewhat limited in how far back I can go there as opposed to Azeroth," the bronze admitted with a scowl. "But fifty years is easy. Done a few times and you return to Azeroth moments after you left as an adult black dragon, at the head of your flight, with perhaps even a second generation."

Wrathion fell back on his rump, at a loss for words. It was an insane plan but... It might work. He wouldn't be alone. He could revive his flight. Bring an entire wing of talented black dragons to bear against the Legion. They could train and plan. He could have time.

Wrathion's eyes narrowed as he tripped over the last part of what Kairoz had said. "How could we have a second generation? The flights are barren."

"Which is why I said perhaps," Karioz said. "I actually came to this plan while trying to see if I could find a solution to the current population issue we face. It is possible that dragons who were not present on Azeroth at the moment Deathwing was defeated might be the key."

"So I would be a test case."

Karioz shrugged both sets of shoulders, his wings rustling as they shifted. "You lose nothing. Nozdormu decreed we cannot pilfer eggs from other times because we could not be sure we weren't subjecting new children to the same fate. I think it was shortsighted of him." His tail twitched as if he meant to thrash it from side to side in anger.

"Wouldn't removing dragons from earlier in time cause issues?" Wrathion asked, trying to poke holes in the plan before he became too committed. His heart was pounding in his ears and he felt an ache in his chest.

"I have been very careful in my research," Kairoz sniffed, chest puffing out in pride. "These are all nests where losses happened due to natural disaster or raiding by Trolls or rampaging elementals. I even witnessed you and your team removing them from some timeways. It is quite complicated for a non-bronze but the short answer is that if you go to these specific nests and eggs, then it has already happened."

"And naturally I will need a bronze dragon to assist me."

"Of course. I need your support to get my plan started. You cannot expect me to give everything to you before you've acted."

Wrathion grunted. He supposed that was true enough. He looked up at Kairoz. "I need a final reassurance. You will extract from Garrosh the promise that no dragons will ever serve as war mounts against their will." He lifted his snout to stare down the bronze.

Kairoz tilted his head to the side in acceptance. "Of course. I was not unmoved by Alexstrasza's testimony, young Prince."

Wrathion snorted and rolled his eyes. "Then we still have an accord."

"Excellent."

"You may go," Wrathion said, waving a paw. "I have dinner to eat."

The bronze dragon chuckled and bowed, holding his wings out to either side with a bit more flourish than was necessary. Still, he was going to give Wrathion two things which would change everything about the coming war; allies to help uphold the Charge, and _time itself_.

Wrathion turned and flew away, wishing he were in a larger body already. He wondered if he would develop great curling horns as Fahrad and Onyxia had worn or if he would have straighter horns like Deathwing. Left melded out of the shadows as he approached, never having been far from her master.

Wrathion frowned. Mortal races were generally short lived. He would need help for decades and he did not wish to lose any of the power he had currently. Perhaps he would be able to convince his Black Talons to work in shifts of perhaps a year or two. Then when the Legion came, he would have the full strength of his powerbase at his call.

There were options. Many wonderful and intriguing options. Feeling much better about his choice to assist Kairoz, Wrathion shifted into his human shape and strode into the inn. "Let's have some of that wonderful rice wine," he called out. "I'm in a somewhat celebratory mood tonight." He grinned at the surprised looks on his bodyguard's faces as he seated himself before the small feast that had been prepared for him. If the price of Azeroth's future was freeing Garrosh, he supposed he could pay it. The return on investment was not something he could pass up.

[8]

The night before the last day of the trial, Wrathion, Right and Left made their final recon of the temple. They had several infiltration and exfiltration plans laid out and Wrathion had spent the last few days flying in small arms and using his abilities to bury them around the grounds.

His part was to subdue Chromie and anyone else who might try to stop Kairoz from fleeing with Garrosh. They had outlined a plan based on what the other bronze dragon had done heretofore in the trial.

Wrathion did not want to kill her. To do so was a waste as she was quite talented. She'd be angry with him, but once the Legion arrived, everyone would be needed. There was also the not-so-small matter of his own flight's future. Killing bronze dragons when he would need their support seemed to be a bad idea. He had tried to distance himself from his mad relatives, and he, a black dragon, killing dragons from other flights, would not be looked upon kindly. Also Xuen would likely be displeased with him and angering a Wild God by taking a life needlessly in his temple seemed to be a poor choice.

Also a small part of him knew that his friend would have been more than a little upset if he just had the other dragon executed. There were many reasons to be non-lethal.

It had not gone according to plan.

Chronormu, or Chromie as she preferred, had noticed Kairoz tinkering with the Vision of Time. She had begun asking Kairoz questions. The bronze had made vague excuses but the other dragon had persisted. She wasn't where she was supposed to be, when she was supposed to be.

Fortunately for Kairoz, Wrathion had been nearby. His human form had enough power to knock Chromie cold with a sharp blow to the back of her head with the butt of his dagger. Left had stepped in and hauled the unconscious bronze over one shoulder like a sack of flour.

"Garrosh will be moved shortly," Kairoz said, his voice strained.

"I'll handle Chromie. You handle Garrosh."

"We'll meet at Mason's Folly tomorrow. Well, tomorrow from your perspective," Kairoz said, regaining some of his usual pomp.

Wrathion nodded and gestured to Right and Left, leading the way. Garrosh was being moved soon, but should Chromie be discovered, it was certain the rest of the plan would fall apart. 

Slipping through the dark halls in the lesser travelled areas, Right stripped her jacket and handed it to Left who covered Chromie. They stopped by a small training area and Wrathion paced to where he'd hidden weapons. He touched the ground and focused. The earth moved and shifted, giving up a water-proofed bundle. Right picked up the wrapped weapons and the group moved back inside towards the cells.

The detour outside had largely allowed the audience to file back into the chamber. They waited for the last few stragglers to enter and the huge doors to thud closed. Wrathion crouched, placing his hands on the smooth stone of the temple. He focused on the stone itself, trying to get a sense of the movement around him. The number of footsteps dwindled to just a few guards taking up positions and a handful of others who milled about in the courtyard but who were not watching the drama of the trial unfold to its conclusion. When he was satisfied that the chance of discovery was minimal, he motioned for the others to follow.

The small group slipped down into the holding area. The two Pandaren guards, brothers Li and Lo Chu were chatting quietly. Left placed her burden on the ground then Right handed her a crossbow. 

"Try to be non-lethal," Wrathion reminded them.

They nodded at him, then at one another, and pounced on the Pandaren. The two were able to spin around and recover with remarkable speed, but his bodyguards had gotten the drop on them. The two pandaren went down in a heap as they applied unyielding crossbow stocks to their heads.

Wrathion approached and could see they were breathing. He nodded in satisfaction and gestured to the bronze dragon. While Chromie was contained by Left, he and Right searched for the keys. They locked Chromie away then locked up the two Chu brothers.

"I think we've accomplished our task," Wrathion said. "Secure our escape-" He paused as the crowd above roared in fury. "Left, go." The orc woman nodded and went to secure their escape. Wrathion crouched to see if the commotion above would lead to their discovery. One set of steps approached. He waved Right down the hall. Wrathion shifted into his true form to hide in the shadows of the high rafters.

He did not expect Anduin to run down the hall, a frantic look in his eyes. He waved Right away. he would handle this. Chromie was still held within the cell and true to Kairoz's predictions, the other bronze did not shift shape to escape. He dropped to the ground and Anduin was beginning to figure out who had harmed the two guards and locked Chromie away. He had not wished for it to come to this, but he knew what he needed to do. The future of Azeroth dictated his actions. It was a shame to lose an ally as he knew he would. To lose a friend. But the Legion didn't stop for the wishes of small whelps.

"I should have known." Anduin said, equal parts anger and sadness.

"Perhaps you should have, but it is not yet within you to suspect treachery, Anduin Wrynn," Wrathion said. "If it is any consolation, I am deeply sorry for what I now must do." And he was sorry. The prince's expression went from surprise to hurt to anger and scorn. Anduin's glare sank unexpected claws into his chest. 

"Sure you are."

He shrugged off Anduin's words. "Believe what you will, but it is the truth. We are friends, you and I."

"Friends? Friends don't kill each other!"

Anduin's comment actually hurt. Hadn't he allowed the Chu's to live? The captive bronze? Hadn't he shown the mercy he valued so deeply in his father? Wrathion expressed all but the last and the other prince scowled.

"Wrathion, what is going on here? What are you doing?"

Pity. He'd thought it was obvious. Perhaps it was a matter of Anduin not seeing as clearly as he did. So Wrathion explained. "You once asked me to watch and listen, and to make up my mind as to what is best for Azeroth. I have done exactly as you bid." Hm, perhaps a simile would explain better. "You are the heir of Stormwind. You have a duty to keep your kingdom safe. You do what you believe is best." He could hear the words of Khaz'goroth in the back of his head, they rang out like the strikes of a forge hammer. "As the last black dragon, the former charge of my flight - to keep Azeroth safe - falls solely to me. I must honor that charge."

For a moment, he thought perhaps the other prince understood, but the bronze clearly did not. And after he'd bothered to spare her life. It was a little bit rude, but it only underscored that peace was the lesser option.

"This is keeping Azeroth safe?" Anduin asked.

More than he knew. "In this case, I assure you, the end does justify the means. It is my deep hope that you will understand. And on that day, you and I will face a terrible enemy." Despite his better judgement, despite his common sense telling him to leave it, he continued. "Perhaps we shall even do so as brothers." He saw Right slip down the hall, silent as a shadow and just as ignored, out of the corner of his eye.

He did not have the time to explain. Not now. Perhaps later he would. It seemed the mercy Anduin favored might indicate that their alliance, their friendship was not entirely doomed. But the time for explanation was not now.

Anduin stretched out a hand, pleading. "You don't have to do it this way. Tell me what's going on. We can work together. We can find some way to-"

Wrathion briefly caught Right's eye and he subtly nodded. "Farewell for now, young Prince," he said, lifting his hand. Right fetched him a sharp blow and Anduin crumpled to the floor. Right followed him down then checked his pulse.

"He lives?" Wrathion asked.

She nodded. "We have secured our route out. There are zeppelins on the way."

Wrathion turned and they both left, beating a hasty retreat. "Kairoz's distraction no doubt," he said. She was still frowning. "What?"

"Left used her scope. Says the zeppelins aren't alone."

"Meaning?" they ascended and slipped out into an empty corridor, making good time towards the portion of the courtyard they'd marked for escape, the one area without the magical suppression field.

"We need to leave," She said instead, pulling out the scrolls of recall they'd brought.

Wrathion accepted his. He felt the slight tingle as magic returned to the area. Perhaps they hadn't needed this quiet corner of the temple grounds after all. They burned their scrolls and were whisked away by their magic and deposited near Right's startled gryphon and Left's wyvern.

"The zeppelins have company. You should see for yourself." Right nodded and Left handed him the scope from her rifle.

Wrathion was about to scoff that he needed no assistance to see, but the winged figures moved in a way that made him wish to be absolutely sure. Infinite dragons. And on their backs, Orcs. Dragonmaw Orcs.

Wrathion turned to one side and roared, flames spewing forth in fury. That... Had everything been a lie? Had he be made a pawn? He vented his rage to the sky as the battle engaged in and around the temple. To his astonishment Kalecgos rose into the air in his true form. He dove, using his immense tail as a club that suddenly ended the lives of several in the courtyard. Wrathion watched in mute astonishment as people died to _Kalecgos_ of all dragons. Then a second Kalecgos rose into the air and Wrathion understood the full extent of the distraction. As he intended to send Garrosh to other timeways, he had somehow pulled others into this reality as well.

"We're leaving." Wrathion said, numbness falling over him like a blanket. The zeppelins and infinite dragons brought their full power to bear against the crowd on the temple's top and he felt strangely cut adrift. "We're leaving," he repeated, as fireballs flashed and the first reports of gunfire reached their perch, echoing off the mountains.

He shifted shape and sat on the closer mount, Left's wyvern, and they group left at speed.

He could only hold on to the faint hope that Kairoz hadn't betrayed his trust as well, and would meet him the next day.


	2. 9 - 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The days after the trial of Garrosh Hellscream brings new uncertainty for Wrathion.

He wasn't coming.

Wrathion paced to the edge of the overlook and scowled across the distance, not really seeing the spectacular view. Kairoz wasn't coming. He and his bodyguards had been at the meeting place since they'd retreated from the chaos at the Temple now nearly a full day past. Wrathion turned on his heel and paced to the other side of the overlook, boots digging into the ground with each step, his mood growing darker.

Left glanced his way but then resumed her careful watch of the skies. Right had been dispatched hours ago to discreetly make contact with the other Black Talons, to give further instructions, and to see what had happened at the temple.

He'd been betrayed. Possibly. Probably. Kairoz was a bronze dragon. They were not known to be tardy. Wrathion snarled, turned and paced back to the vista. The Dragonmaw had been flying astride Infinite dragons. Kairoz had not worn the telltale colors of those who'd immersed themselves into the timestream with the intent of moving and changing it, but had it been an illusion? Had his intent been to use the Infinite flight for his own ends? Was he himself a pawn and for what purpose? Wrathion's hands clenched. He gritted his teeth.

Wrathion hated not knowing. 

The manner of his birth had gifted him with great knowledge. His visions had given him direction. Now he felt swept away, once again unable to choose his own fate or fulfill his rightful destiny. He hated this helpless feeling. He scowled and watched the skies because in this moment he could do nothing else.

Left grunted recognition and Wrathion whirled. "Kairoz?" he asked.

Left scowled, bearing a fearsome set of teeth as she lowered her scope. "No. But Right is on her way back." She resumed her watch of the skies, looking for the bronze, or perhaps pursuit.

Wrathion focused on the faint figure in the distance and saw it was indeed Right.

She landed and guided her gryphon to one side to tie it next to Left's mount. 

"Report."

Right bowed her head then launched into a clipped, almost militaristic report. "No sign of Kairoz. Garrosh and he were seen escaping into the timeway the dragon opened. No one has seen him since." She stood at parade rest, more of her former military training showing. This was bad as she normally didn't let it show. Wrathion frowned in consideration as she continued her clipped report.

"The attack on the temple consisted of dark versions of several of the witnesses and attendees drawn from alternate timelines. The information I have indicates they were mostly mad and homicidal. The Celestials did not interfere with the assault, citing the Sha. The incursions were ultimately pushed back into their own times. Outside the temple, the attack was carried out by goblin zeppelin and Dragonmaw orcs astride Infinite dragons. The Dragonmaw broke ranks and retreated. I do not have a complete picture of what happened to the zeppelin forces at this time. My sources indicate that the fighting at the Temple was taxing and desperate in some cases."

Wrathion snarled silently for a moment. "Casualties at the temple?" He recalled seeing the other Kalecgos rise from the temple then descend like a crashing wave.

"Significant and... Not, your Majesty."

Wrathion arched an eyebrow. "Explain."

Right nodded, shifting her weight slightly. "There were many casualties. A large number of fatalities among them. Some of them which would have complicated your plans further if they'd been permanent."

Wrathion arched both eyebrows. "Mass resurrection?"

Right nodded. "That is what is being reported. Specifically the Red Crane acted once the fighting was over."

Resurrection was known, but rare and difficult. Doing such a thing on a massive scale was an indication of Chi-Ji's power. Wrathion felt a little thrill of fear run down his back and hoped that the Wild Gods of Pandaria wouldn't decide _he_ needed to be punished. He shoved the thought away. "Anyone significant to my plans among those brought back?"

Right's face tightened slightly. "Archmage Proudmoore died."

Wrathion's lips curled back in a small snarl. While his plans for her mostly consisted of 'point her at the enemy,' she was a tremendously powerful mage, a player in global politics, and had personal ties to many leaders. "The Prince of Stormwind?" 

"He lives. I have it from The Mage that he took a portal to Stormwind already. The Horde and Alliance have both pledged to track down Garrosh and Kairoz. Chromie was freed and is already working on following them. There has been no word otherwise."

Wrathion scowled as he thought this over. "We need ears close to her. I want to find Kairoz myself." He began to pace, his hands clasped behind his back as he did so. If they could follow whatever plan was ultimately reached, he could sink a blade into Kairoz's traitorous back either himself or by proxy. "Contact The Mage and The Rogue," Wrathion said as his heels dug into the earth with each step. "Both are Champions who proved themselves and will likely be on shortlists for whatever hunting party is formed. I think they would still be amenable to contact. I need someone on the inside."

"The Rogue and the Mage are a both more independent than other agents, if I might point out, your Majesty," Right said.

"If they're told to kill Garrosh, they might just do it," Left added.

" _I_ want to do it right now!" Wrathion snapped. He looked away, seething. "I need to know if Kairoz's plan worked at all. I think these two will be reasonable enough to understand the methods I have chosen to employ. They know the Legion is coming." Wrathion returned his gaze to Right. "You said The Mage is at Xuen's temple?"

"She was in Pandaria. Called to the Temple to assist in making portals, provide additional protections, and help with cleanup. She might be back on Thunder Isle or even in Dalaran now."

"The Rogue?"

"Not in Pandaria at this time, but we have means of contacting her."

"Do so. I want to have a word with both of them."

Wrathion turned back to the vista, hands clenched as Right left once more to do his bidding. This had been a gamble from the start and Wrathion would use Kairoz's wings as saddle leather when he finally found the damn bronze. Well he wished to do so. Circumstances being what they were, he needed the dragon more or less intact. For now.

He withdrew the golden medallion from a pocket. The etched markings and delicate layers of gearwork sparkled in the late afternoon sunlight. He wondered if the medallion had been a lie too, but he could feel item hum with power. He had little hope of using the device himself. For that he needed a bronze dragon; either Kairoz or someone to take his place. Wrathion put the medallion back into the pocket, checking it was secured.

As for Garrosh? Well, Wrathion would see how well he forged the Horde War machine before he decided what he would do with Garrosh.

One way or another. He would see Azeroth safe.

 

[10]

It was dusk when Right returned to the small hidden campsite Left had established. Left was eating some dried jerky, her eyes always on the skies. Wrathion looked up from the small bandicoot he'd caught and killed when she grunted in recognition.

"Right," she said, nodding in the direction of the approaching figures.

Wrathion groomed his claws and muzzle then shifted back into his human shape to wait for his bodyguard and those who accompanied her.

Right's gryphon landed with a quiet flap of dark wings. She tied it off near the sleeping wyvern and Left tossed the beast a small dead animal for supper.

"I found them both, your majesty," Right said, all but saluting. 

"Good work," Wrathion said, filing her reactions away in the back of his head. He looked to the skies. The first of the two champions approached on an armored Wyvern.

The orc riding the beast nodded at Wrathion, eyes hidden under dark riding goggles. She pushed them up into her mane of dark hair and quickly scanned the area before pulling her beast to one side to be tied. She wore sturdy leathers in dark colors but they were fairly unremarkable. She was an average Orc female with an average build. The greenish cast to her skin marked her as a descendant of those who'd crossed through the portal into Azeroth. She was utterly unremarkable save for the daggers Wrathion knew well. This close he could feel their power, an odd sense of recognition, even if they were hidden on her person. Her name was Teraka and she had helped slay many of the remaining members of his flight. She'd been part of the team which had killed his father. Wrathion had armed her.

The second champion was a strange looking blue dragon. She hovered a moment as the Wyvern shuffled to the side then landed neatly on the ground. She was a small dragon, little larger than a drake, but she was a full-grown adult in structure and proportion. She possessed curling horns, rare among blues, and had draped them in silks. Her scales shimmered as if there was something not quite real about them. Her eyes blazed with blue arcane power. The dragon form faded away, like smoke caught in the wind. 

A dark-furred Worgen in her lupine visage stood in place of the dragon. On her back was an intricate staff that resembled the dragon she had been moments before, and which smelled strongly of blue dragon itself. The mage rolled her shoulders and gave a cursory sniff of the area. Archmage Zaliya had been instrumental in Kalecgos's ascension and in bringing down Deathwing. She'd actually been suggested to Wrathion as a contact by Teraka in the aftermath of the Cataclysm. She too had proven a valuable asset during Wrathion's time on Pandaria.

Both champions were respected by their factions and had proven themselves in troubled times. They'd also been part of the final assault on Orgrimmar. Teraka in particular had wished to see Hellscream dead, but neither champion looked especially pleased at the moment. Wrathion was glad of his bodyguards. They knew of the importance of protecting Azeroth though they remained loyal to their factions. He hoped he would have better luck with them than he had with prince Anduin.

Teraka crossed her arms and leaned against her wyvern's flank. "This about Hellscream?"

Wrathion set his feet and faced them squarely. "Kairozdormu of the Bronze came to me with an audacious plan he required assistance with enacting. He would take Garrosh Hellscream back to Draenor before the Orcs tasted demon blood and deny the Legion their might. He would use those decades to forge a stronger Horde; one which could stand against the Legion. And then he would do it again and again. They would take Azeroth and we would be united under one banner."

The orc's scowl deepened but she didn't move.

Zaliya arched an eyebrow at him, her golden eyes luminous in the falling light. "Can't say I like the idea of an infinite number of Hordes."

"Wrynn couldn't do what needed to be done," Teraka scoffed. "An infinite number of Alliances wouldn't stand against the Legion."

"Apparently," Zaliya snorted. "But rest assured, we would die before allowing Garrosh to rule us. Better to die fighting than in a slum or an execution after. I think the Horde response to his rule would indicate that many members of the Horde feel the same. You don't like Garrosh any more than I do." Zalia turned her eyes towards Wrathion, gold meeting red. "I thought you wanted to see him dispatched, too."

"When Kairoz contacted me I decided I would allow Garrosh to live only so long as he was useful." Wrathion sniffed. "I was not unaware of his nature. He is a psychopath but he could have a use if pointed at the Legion."

"Where is he?" Teraka asked. Her tone of voice was neutral but both of his bodyguards bristled as if she'd drawn her blades. 

"Somewhen in time with Kairozdormu. He had promised me something only a bronze dragon could give and he has not appeared. Chromie now searches for him. When he is found there were doubtless be a hunting party for Hellscream and where he is, the bronze will not be far. You are both champions of your factions and will likely be called to help in the hunt."

Teraka relaxed marginally. "I would see him dead."

"As would I, Black Prince," Zaliya said, crossing her arms. "If you are here to ask either of us to be lenient I do not think we are inclined to be accommodating."

"Garrosh can rot when he is useless. The bronze promised me something important to my mission and I will have my due. As for the Infinite Hordes, I hope you can see the benefit of such an army, Mage."

The mage's lips peeled back, exposing white fangs in a silent snarl. "I will not submit myself to the rule of Garrosh Hellscream from this time or any other. I will fight the Legion till my last breath but I will not do it for him."

"On that we are agreed, mage," Teraka added.

"Garrosh can die. I'm certain everyone will be quite pleased if he does. I am concerned about the bronze and his plans for an the Infinite Horde. Garrosh cannot lead such a thing if he is dead, can he? I only ask you allow him to live long enough to be useful in creating such a thing. Then he can die." Wrathion bared his teeth at them in something which could charitably called a smile. "In fact, I would greatly prefer it."

Zaliya's muzzle twisted in a grimace. "I will argue with you that further loss of life isn't going to help us against the Legion and I would rather not be slaughtered. But if he manages to make a fighting force that we can point at the Legion, maybe we can bring everyone under the same banner with negotiation."

"Negotiation will not work."

Zaliya rolled her eyes. "And on this we will agree to disagree, Black Prince. King Wrynn should have assimilated the Horde, but he didn't. If this infinite Horde can assimilate the Alliance then I will have no quarrel with the outcome. Azeroth lives united." She shook her head. "Let Garrosh build but then he dies." She inclined her head to her Horde counterpart then regarded Wrathion again. "I am expected in Dalaran."

"As I am in Orgrimmar."

"Portal?" Zaliya offered. "I can send you to the Gadgetzan area."

"Appreciated."

Wrathion fumed, a small, embarrassing chirping noise escaping from his mouth. "I have not dismissed you!"

"We are allies, not your subjects to be dismissed, Prince Wrathion," Zaliya stated. "I will look for your Bronze and see him delivered to you should he come across my path. But I will not stand by idly as more atrocities, like what happened with the Bell or with Theramore, are committed." She growled pensively. "Magic should not be used in such ways as that." She shook her head and focused on him once more. "I agree we must be under the banner as your vision dictates, but if Garrosh leads there will be unity only because he has managed to kill me and many others."

"That goes for me as well. On all counts, Black Prince." Teraka said. She turned and mounted her wyvern. "Mage, if you would?"

Zaliya inclined her head and began to murmur and weave her hands. Her magic was an ice-cold blue that dropped the ambient temperature noticeably. When she was done a large portal split the air, showing sand lit by the last rays of the sun.

"I will deliver Kairoz if I should come across him. Garrosh will die. As for the rest, we shall see what transpires." Teraka inclined her head to Wrathion then kicked her mount into movement. The Wyvern leapt across the portal, landing on the sand half a world away. The portal winked out.

"By your leave," Zaliya said, bowing in the Gilnean fashion.

Wrathion ground his teeth then waved her off. "Go."

She inclined her head once more, eyeing him speculatively. "I am curious what the bronze dragon promised you that you would agree to assist in a plan you do not believe in." She tilted her head, evaluating him with narrow golden eyes. "It must be something quite worthy of Azeroth and your mission. I hope whatever it was is not lost in this circus." She moved her clawed hands and murmured then teleported away with a hum and flash of arcane energies.

Wrathion clenched his fists. That had not gone as well as he would have liked. He had hoped the two would be far more amenable to the general plan of a powerful army of orcs. At least they hadn't outright refused so they were somewhat reasonable in that respect. Their adamant responses against Garrosh were unsurprising.Their concerns about Garrosh were not unfounded, which irked Wrathion to the most. But these were the tools he had and he would make them work. 

Conquest left no question of leadership. The Alliance could bend knee or it could break, but there would be one banner. He might lose allies, but Azeroth was more important.

"The bronze dragon won't like it that you've told one of Azeroth's best assassins and one of the more powerful mages to see Garrosh dead," Right said after an uncomfortable silence.

"I don't care about Hellscream. I care about Azeroth." Wrathion snapped. He shifted shape and resumed tearing apart the bandicoot carcass. He needed to sink his claws into something. "The Alliance had their chance and Wrynn was too weak to seize it. They are unfit. Let Garrosh build a war machine then die. The bronze can mourn alone if he wants. The war machine will unify the world."

Right bowed her head in acceptance.

"We remaining here?" Left asked.

"For the night. We'll leave at dawn."

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Elsewhere. We need a new base of operations. If I get the Bronze back, then we'll have additional items to discuss. But there is little sense planning until I have further information about Kairoz."

"I have a suggestion, your majesty," Right said. "Though you might not like it. Booty Bay."

Pirates. Ugh. Well at least the location would give him access to information. It was also pleasantly warm. It would only be temporary.

"It will do," he said, nodding at her. "If we have access to any more mages, we'll teleport off this continent. I would rather not spend the time sailing."

"Yes your majesty."

"Of, course, Prince Wrathion."

Wrathion poked at the bandicoot but found her had little appetite. He kicked the carcass off the edge of the overlook then settled in to sleep as night fell. His dreams will filled with the clash of metal, the roar of forges and the flickering green of felfire.

[11]

The Strangethorn Vale was warm. That was the most positive thing Wrathion could say about the area. He'd discovered he didn't like the taste of jungle cat nor great ape and he'd never preferred fish, which left pickings slim. The food wasn't anywhere near what he'd grown accustomed to in Pandaria. In Booty Bay, if the food wasn't biting back, it was salted and shriveled. Or boiled. Or salted and dried and then boiled in salty water. The air was moist more often than not, which left him feeling chilled in the evenings. During the day he felt like he was swimming through the air. They'd had the unfortunate luck to arrive in the monsoon season which meant it rained constantly so he was trapped indoors.

There were pirates everywhere. They were loud and usually drunk and seemed to find any sort of excuse to be generally obnoxious. Showy and ostentatious, Wrathion felt he had yet to meet one that had any sort of class at all. The rogues he'd grown up around had been far more preferable; they at least possessed some modicum of class. They were also more quiet as might be expected from persons who usually made their living being unobtrusive.

They had been here for a week and he already hated Booty Bay. At least the rooms his people had acquired were somewhat reasonable. They'd been the captain's quarters on what had formerly been a sailing ship of some sort. It and several unfortunate brethren had been repurposed into a warren of buildings affixed to the side of a sharp cliff.

Thunder rolled outside and the building creaked as a gale of wind buffeted the cove. Over the downpour, Wrathion could hear the revelry from the inn below. He'd counted five ships in port and the crews were all apparently on liberty. Another roar of laughter drowned out even the thunder and Wrathion sighed, shutting the tome he'd been reading.

Shifting shape into his true form he stretched out and flew a few laps around the small room. He landed on the broad bench before the stained glass windows on the rear wall, and peeked outside. A gust of wind blew cool rainwater inside, several fat drops hitting the whelp in the face. He shut the window with a grumble. This was not weather suitable for a black dragon. His limbs ached, wishing to go outside and fly. Wrathion settled for picking up the heavy tome in careful claws and flying laps with the improvised weight.

He truly hated Booty bay. Oh why couldn't his twice damned father have wiped this titan-forsaken locale off the map? It smelled of rotten fish, stale beer and unwashed pirate. Wrathion picked up a second tome on his fifth lap around the room. After a week of doing it, he felt as if he weren't as winded by the end of his impromptu exercise regime, so at least that was something.

The candle guttered as the suite's door opened and closed. Wrathion's "room" was little more than an ornate tapestry hung across the rear half of the cabin. Sighing, he set the books back on the table and resumed his human form, rolling his shoulders as he approached the curtain.

Left had returned, rain sliding off the slick cloak she wore. She stepped to one side and hung the cloak by the fire. The smell of wet fur preceded the hulking shape behind her. The worgen male was huge even for a worgen. His pointed ears were notched from fighting and a thick scar crossed the pad of his nose. He'd worn a cloak as well, but the rain got everywhere.

"You smell like wet dog! Out of mah way ye filthy cur," a brash voice said. The dwarf who'd been standing behind him, shoved the intimidating worgen aside as he stepped into the room.

"Cur?" the worgen mused, his voice a soft, cultured, Gilnean purr. "Mmm perhaps I should shake off this rainwater like a dog then," the worgen mused, one claw tapping his lower jaw.

"Don' ye dare!" The dwarf growled. Turning to Wrathion, the dwarf bowed. "Yer Majesty." The worgen bent knee behind him with a sweeping bow.

"Master Flintrock," Wrathion said, inclining his head to the dwarf. "Master Grey," he said, acknowledging the worgen. "Have a seat," he said, gesturing to the area before the fire. He took a chair, the nicest, and settled in for the audience. The two shed their rain cloaks and hung them up by the fire. Flintrock pulled up a stool and Grey settled into a comfortable crouch near the fireplace.

"We managed to get the safehouses set up as requested," Flintrock said. "It's a wee bit smaller than requested."

"How much smaller?"

"Well, when you asked for a remote farmstead in a highly defensible position, yer highness, the problem is most of those places are already occupied. So on short notice, ah, we had to improvise."

Wrathion had the urge to rub his temples. He settled for gripping the arm of his chair. "What were you able to accomplish?"

"Well, we secured a small place outside of Darkshire. There's also a small hunting lodge in Dun Morough," the dwarf said. He nodded at his compatriot.

"I was able to secure a townhouse in Stormwind. It has the benefit of access to the canals and sewer systems, your majesty. Few who have reclaimed their lands outside of the city are willing to give them up."

Wrathion's lips thinned but he nodded. He wanted to move out of this blasted jungle. "Good work. What is the mood in those areas?"

"Mixed, your highness," Grey answered. "Opinions were mixed beforehand about how to handle Garrosh. The result of the trial has... left many feeling unsure and uncertain. Prevailing opinion was that the capture of Garrosh was a victory which has been taken from them."

The dwarf shifted a bit in his seat, his bushy eyebrows drawing together. "The attack was carried out by Dragonmaw Orcs. I know and this great beast knows that the new guy they got in charge isn't a friend o' that lot. But average person in the Alliance doesn't see it that way. They just see that someone very bad managed to escape with the help of orcs."

"Do you have something to say?" Wrathion asked, his voice sharp.

The dwarf held up a hand and ducked his eyes. "I figure you had reasons for doin' what ye did. And I pledged m'self to trust that. But it'd been damn hard to defend it when I don't know m'self why."

The worgen huffed out a low growl. "I've lost a few guards. They speak of madness, your majesty."

Wrathion rose. "I am not mad!"

"Aye. We know that. The core of your people know that."

Wrathion turned to the fire, chin in hand. "The bronze dragon wished to use Garrosh as a tool. He believed Wrynn was too weak and that Garrosh, with guidance, could be pointed at the Legion. When he had served his purpose I would see him dead. Kairoz apparently changed plans on me, and he will regret crossing me. Crossing us." He included them with a gesture. The two men leaned forward slightly to catch his words better over the low rumble of thunder. "He has hindered my ability to get this world ready for the coming conflict. He has made those who were once loyal turn their backs in fear. But you and those who have remained with me still have work to do. And we will do it. Azeroth is more important than our vengeance, but he will pay. We will make him pay."

The two nodded, eyes gleaming in the fire. The dwarf's hands itched to grasp his axe, the worgen had bared his fangs in a feral grin.

"That's why we've been on the lookout for the bronze, then. He need a new extra holes, your highness?" Grey asked, the sharp teeth appearing to be sharper against the coal black fur.

"Yes, eventually. But until I can confront him, we need to continue to build here. That means expanding our network." Wrathion inclined his head to them slightly. "You've both done well to help secure things for our use in the eastern kingdoms."

The worgen's ears twitched in acknowledgement and the dwarf nodded firmly. They were solid operatives and he knew he could count on them; knew it with the same sense of absolute faith he had in the feel of earth under his feet. Their loyalty, like the earth could erode and shift, but unless great things happened, they would remain solid. The revelation of his part in Garrosh's escape had not lost them. They would see his plans to the end.

"Keep your eyes and ears open for rumors of bronze dragons. I hope to move out of this titan-forsaken location soon." He gestured and the two rose, bowing once more.

"Your majesty," they murmured. They took their cloaks and slipped out of the room, laughing and teasing one another, their moods considerably lighter. Wrathion turned from them and noticed Left's speculative look from her quiet seat at the table, her gun spread out before her.

"Left?"

She stood and bowed. Wrathion frowned then shook his head. "Any word from Ms. Right?"

The orc woman resumed her maintenance of the weapon. "This place is too wet but we get a surprisingly fast turn around time with mail and messages," she said. "Word came in with those two," she said, nodding. "Stormhoof should be arriving tomorrow with his update on Klaimdor."

"Good."

Thunder cracked overhead and the downpour doubled. Wrathion rolled his eyes and shifted into his true form. "If you need me, I shall be napping in the fireplace."

He made a quick nest of the pleasantly burning logs, adding a few more to extend the life of the fire, and curled up to sleep.

[12]

The rain continued to increase in violence throughout the night waking Wrathion at odd hours. Right had not yet returned from her tasks abroad, but then the rain likely kept her gryphon grounded. He finally found sleep after pulling a few more logs onto the fire, the crackle and snap drowning out the rain.

Dawn broke to blessed silence, the sun finally showing itself through the clouds. Wrathion woke amid smouldering coals. It was a disadvantage of sleeping inside the fire but one easily solved. He added another log to the pile and set it, and himself, on fire. The soot and dust burned away and he took a moment to enjoy the fire bath before stepping out onto the stones. He let his scales cool as he stretched and flexed, arching his back and wings and working out the kinks. He groomed away the remaining dust and then preened the supple hide of his wings before resuming his human shape and taking a look outside.

Right had not yet returned and Left was absent. Outside the early morning fishermen were standing in a row at the docks, steaming mugs at their elbows or in their free hands as they observed their lines. Seagulls called and the horizon was a brilliant pink. Even the sea was calm, the waves barely audible as they fell to the small shore. The door opened and Wrathion closed the window.

Left had returned with breakfast. By some miracle there was boar sausage and the bread looked fresh and smelled warm and amazing. Cinnamon and sugar had been melted and painted across the tops of the little circular rolls and Wrathion found his mouth watering.

"Word from Right?" he asked as he fell upon breakfast.

Left finished chewing her boar sausage, she had agreed with him that the food here was abysmal, and answered. "No sign yet. Word from four more of the Talons in the mail. They await your instructions."

"We need another set of guards here and we should send a few to assist Masters Grey and Flintrock."

"I'll see it done," Left answered. There was a knock at the door.

The two exchanged a look and Wrathion nodded at his bodyguard. She armed herself and checked the door. Wrathion had two talons watching his quarters but there was always a chance that they'd been quietly removed; Wrathion had not earned many friends for assisting Karioz. Wrathion slipped a blade out of a sleeve and held it under the table.

Left stepped away from the door and admitted the visitor, a tall tauren brave with only one horn and a braided beard. He found Wrathion and bowed before coming forward. Wrathion replaced the blade and stood.

"Master Stonehoof."

"I'd have been here yesterday but the storm prevented me from leaving," the tauren said, bowing his head.

"Understood. What do you have to report?" He gestured for the tauren to take a seat. 

He did so delicately. The stool creaked under his bulk but held. "I have been unable to secure land as you asked for. Few are selling and those who were are reluctant to sell to a known Black Talon," he admitted with a grimace. "Another intermediary may have better luck, my Prince."

Wrathion fumed, but attempted to keep it out of his voice. "I see. Make those arrangements."

He bowed his head. "I will. In the matter of raw materials and arms I was somewhat more successful. Those items have been secured. Half are being held in a goblin facility, the other half in a hunting lodge I and two others built in Stonetalon."

Wrathion allowed a small smile. "That is good news. You've done well."

The tauren smiled and bowed his head in acknowledgement. "If I may, Prince Wrathion, I do have a minor item which should be brought to your attention."

Wrathion gestured for him to speak.

The tauren took a breath and, with some reluctance it seemed, spoke. "Baine Bloodhoof has issued a proclamation to his people. He has said that those who stood with you are forgiven if they step away now. Those who remain in your service are to consider themselves unwelcome on Thunder Bluff."

Wrathion blinked. "What?"

Stonehoof bowed his head again. "I was not so welcome there before so this does not change my allegiance, my prince. But there are others among my people who may heed the high chieftan in truth. Some may deny their loyalty to you outwardly yet remain part of our cause but... such is not the usual way of my people."

"He... He blackened my name?" Wrathion rose.

The tauren bowed his head. "He feels that the sentence of the Celestials should have been carried out. Garrosh should have been imprisoned until his death or rehabilitation." Stonehoof frowned. "He paints you with the same brush as he does the rogue bronze dragon, mercenaries and the Dragonmaw Orcs who helped him escape.

"I am not in league with Dragonmaw!" Wrathion roared.

"I know, my prince-"

He was interrupted by loud shouting down the hallway and the heavy tread of boots. Wrathion looked up. Left was already on her feet, weapon in hand. The guard at the door opened it and Right sprinted into the room.

"The Dark Portal!" she blurted as she skid to a halt. She saluted Wrathion. "The portal is open. Orcs are invading. They've established a beachhead in the blasted lands and are rendezvousing with the Dragonmaw." Right took a deep breath then let it out. "They call themselves the Iron Horde. They come from Draenor."

Wrathion stood. "Come. Gather our things. We're leaving."

And it had been such a quiet morning.

[13]

"Word came from The Mage," Right said as her gryphon's wings beat at the air. She lifted her voice so that Left could hear as well. "She's been deployed with Archmage Khadgar and other Alliance Vanguard. They intend to land on the shore, cut off the Iron Horde already here and close the portal. Those who have made their way inland are to be hunted down."

"Do we know how the Horde are responding?" He asked.

"Not yet!" Right called over the wind. "But The Mage says word has come down that if the Horde show up to fight the invaders, they're to be welcomed to help. If they show up to assist the invaders, they are to be shown no mercy.".

"Do we know about the Iron Horde's combat capabilities yet?" Wrathion asked. His heart beat quickly in his chest. Was this it? Had Karioz come through after all? Was this the beginning of Garrosh's invasion? Perhaps he didn't need to kill the Bronze after all.

He would still kill Garrosh. Eventually. He was far too insane to allow to live. But hopefully he'd done as Karioz had told him to do and here was the glorious new, strong Iron Horde. That they'd been able to advance so far into Azeroth already spoke well of the plan. 

If the Alliance Vanguard was to driven back and crushed under the onslaught, it would be over.

It might take years for the Alliance to be crushed entirely, but it would be done. The Dark Portal was located in the Eastern Kingdoms, not too far from Stormwind and Ironforge. If the Iron Horde could crush those kingdoms, the rest would fall in line shortly. The Dranei and the Night Elves would retreat to their strongholds of Darnassus and the Exodar. Once the Legion arrived, they would join the fight. All Vol'jin needed to do was withhold his forces and let the Iron Horde break the Alliance. Or better yet, join his forces with the Iron Horde's. No sense in wasting perfectly able champions!

Wrathion's shifted from side to side, tail swinging. It wasn't like the Bronze dragon to be late, but if he'd been busy building their salvation, Wrathion supposed he could be forgiven. They were a somewhat scatterbrained flight anyway. 

The ground below them changed from lush jungles to, murky swamp to arid, broken landscape, red rocks and sand as they flew in a wide arc around the location of the portal. Heavy mechanical siege engines had been erected or brought through the portal already. From the high vantage point, Wrathion could see supply lines had already begun to worm. They'd destroyed the local keep in the area and were pushing north and inland, towards Blackrock Mountain.

"Incoming!" Left called, pointing at dark shapes sweeping in from the north.

Wrathion's eyes followed to where she indicated. Winged shapes on the horizon, coming from the north.

"Perhaps we should land," he said. The shapes were protodrakes which meant these were likely Dragonmaw Orcs. "Given all that has transpired perhaps it would be best if we waited until Kairoz or one of his emissaries reveals himself.

Right pulled on the reins and the graphon spiraled in to land, the rest of Wrathion's party following on their own mounts. Finding a sheltered area which allowed them to watch but not be seen, they settled in to wait. 

"Alliance," Right said, pointing east. Sure enough, a wing of armored gryphons was flying in their direction.

They watched as the protodrakes passed, heading for the Dark Portal, then part of the group veered to the side. Gryphons in Alliance barding met them in the sky with the rest dove through the portal. Fire from ships off the coast peppered the area and announced that they'd arrived just ahead of the Alliance fleet.

"And now we shall see who is stronger," Wrathion stated, feeling quite satisfied with the turn of events.

[14]

The wing of gryphons dove, the warriors mounted on their backs hurling spells and firing ranged weapons as their mounts stooped. The orcs retaliated with weapons of their own. The fight in the sky drew the attention of the orcs below and soon fire from the ground peppered the gryphons of the Alliance. The wing turned away then dove for another attack. They reminded Wrathion of small birds diving at a much larger hawk.

"They seem remarkably well established," Wrathion mused as he looked down on the battle from a prudent distance. "How long has this been going on?" He turned to look at Right. "When did they arrive?"

"A bit more than a week ago."

"A week! And already they have done so much. Remarkable."

"More sails on the horizon," Left said as she looked through her scope.

"The Alliance gryphons are retreating."

"This was just an opening sortee. They're testing their defenses," Right said as she viewed the battlefield with a small spyglass. Looked on the battlefield with her own eyes. "Those big cannons are going to be an issue if they have the range to hit ships in the water. The Alliance won't be able to land well. Will have to rely on mages."

"The supply lines extend to Blackrock you say?"

Right nodded. "I was actually on my way back with a related report on that when word started to get around of the invasion here. The Talons we had watching the Dragonmaw say that Zaela and her people have been working their way into the area."

Wrathion grimaced. "We'll need an updated report on her. If she knew more of what to expect than I did, there will be a reckoning," Wrathion muttered the last under his breath.

"I'll see what I can find, your highness," Right offered. "I had the Talons maintain a watch."

Wrathion looked around. "Can you avoid the battle?" He nodded at the Alliance ships drawing closer on the horizon. They were escorted by the wings shapes of more gryphons.

"I can, your Highness."

"Then go and see what Zaela is up to. Take Grey with you," he said, dismissing her with a wave of his paw. She bowed then the two flew away at speed, keeping well out of the range of the devastating fire from below.

Ogres walked patrols and made camps. Orcs, their skin uncorrupted brown, walked in loose but disciplined groups. In the distance he could see smoke rising from Nethergarde keep. Battle had ruined some of the walls and buildings still burned. He lifted his eyes to the sky and noticed they did not appear to have much in the way of aerial support. At least not yet. If Garrosh's forces were to rendezvous with Zaela's then they would soon have air support for certain.

"Your highness," Left said, drawing his attention.

"Yes?"

She wordlessly handed him the scope from her rifle so he might see what she did. She pointed to the sails on the horizon. Wrathion shifted shape and brought the glass to his eye. Not all of the sails were blue. Some were red.

"What?" Wrathion snarled, checking the sight with his own eyes. "No! Vol'jin cannot be that much of an idiot!" He checked again and sure enough there were were sails bearing the markings of the Horde on the horizon, and they were not attacking the Alliance vessels.

"Your highness."

"After everything this is the perfect opportunity!"

"Your highness!"

"He only needed to sit back and let Wrynn destroy himself on this army!"

"My Prince!" Left hauled him bodily away.

"What?" he huffed out as her arm took him across the middle and pulled him to the side. 

A fireball landed where they'd been standing. The Ogre who'd cast the magic stood on an adjoining hilltop and was already conjuring another. The wyvern spat and hissed, shaking out his wings and thrashing his tail. Left knocked the barbed tail aside, and hoisted Wrathion onto the saddle.

"Go!" Stonehoof, bellowed. He pulled battered and worn claws from his belt and drew out a small set of totems. He called to the Earth and to Fire and Wrathion felt a gentle ripple as the elements responded. Rock and stone formed into a shape that suggested arms and body. It raced ahead at the Ogre. Fire swirled and coalesced then began to hurl returning fire at the Ogre. The air sizzled as the disgraced Shaman called lightning to his hands.

Wrathion watched mutely as the wyvern took off, Left smothering him against the saddle and the beast's course fur. The creature's flight was erratic as more fire chased them through the sky. Gunfire on his level came from the dwarf, Flintrock. He held a rifle with one hand and the reigns of his gryphon with the other. 

Left's wyvern screamed. A moment later Wrathion felt hot liquid on one of his legs. Blood, but whose? He clung to the saddle as their erratic flight took them further inland low over the trees. The shriek of something and the war bellow of an orc followed. Left pulled on the reins and the wyvern juked to one side then down between the trees of the dark swamp. They wove between the twisted, moss covered trunks at speed, naked branches dragging fingers across Wrathion's shoulders and legs. Wood shattered as a bullet impacted a trunk. Left jerked her reins to the side and the wyvern followed, spinning in the air as Left brought up her rifle. Her shot hit the pursuing orc in the chest even as he fired. Left grunted beside him.

The orc roared in rage as he bled, his strange two-headed beast roaring in counterpart. Fintrock's gryphon dove from above, raking her talons across one of the heads of the creature. Flintrock lashed out with the butt of his gun as he flew past, drawing the orc's anger and the next two shots. He didn't get off a third. Left's shot removed much of his head. The body fell off the beast which appeared to be angry about the attack and confused without a rider. Shrieking and growling the mount fell on the orc's body and began to eat it.

"How bad?" Flintrock, asked as he brought his gryphon beside them.

"I'll live. Let's go."

"Aye, lass." He hauled the dark travelling cape out of his saddlebag and tossed it over to her.

"I think people might notice a wyvern more than an orc," she said as she spurred her mount back into the sky just above the canopy.

"Then use it as a bandage," Flintrock said as he drew in to fly beside them.

"I'll be fine," she said. "My Prince, are you wounded?"

Wrathion's head was spinning. He shifted shape so he could fit on the saddle a bit more easily. Nothing appeared to be damaged. He twisted around looking to see the state of his scales. There were some minor scrapes from the trees but that was hardly anything.

"I am unharmed," he said, turning to face her. He was about to compliment them both on their fine reflexes and wondered about Stonehoof's ability to escape when he noted Left's arm was covered in blood. A gash as wide as his forepaw had been carved from her arm. "You're wounded!"

"I'll live," she repeated.

Thunder rumbled strangely behind them and Wrathion wondered about Stonehoof. The blasts were accompanied by flashes of light from land and sea and he realized the Iron Horde was engaging the Alliance and the Horde's forces.

"We can't go far," Wrathion said.

"Duskwood would be the safest, my Prince," she said.

"Right is still here. She's further into Iron Horde Territory. And Stonehoof is still back there."

"No," Left said. "He's not."

"We can't just leave! I need to see what they are doing! Can't we bring in the Talons in Duskwood?"

Left frowned then bowed her head slightly. "As you wish. Your life is paramount." She scowled and turned her mount towards a rocky outcrop.

The beast's breaths were labored and it made little pained sounds as it flew. Wrathion could smell blood: orc and wyvern. He settled down onto the saddle as they descended to land, the dwarf quickly tying his mount and beginning to secure the area while Left moved a bit more slowly. Wrathion resumed his human shape.

"Tend to your arm," he said, taking her rifle and detaching the scope. "I'll keep watch."

She grimaced as she slid off the wyvern, but nodded.

This far from the battle, Wrathion needed the aid of the scope. Fire fell from the sky, lightning flashed and arcane energies exploded violet starbursts. The deep, heavy cadence of cannons rolled like thunder. Wrathion gritted his teeth and watched, unable to act, as waves of Horde and Alliance crashed against the Iron Horde.

[15]

Left cleaned the wound with some water from a canteen, smothered her arm with something that had an acidic, pungent smell then wrapped it with a bandage. The dwarf helped her tie it off then the two pulled the bushes around until they had covered the area from above. Flintrock nodded then left on his mount to retrieve the Talons in Duskwood.

The wyvern licked its wound and hissed whenever anyone approached. Left grabbed its ear and it whimpered as she prodded the wound on the side. Eventually she rubbed more of the pungent salve onto the beast. While it sulked, Left joined Wrathion in his watch.

The battle was still ongoing, which he found somewhat surprising. The Iron Horde had brought their canons around, ogres and orcs alike wheeling them into position to fire on their enemies. The shells they fired were heavy, visible even from this distance, and explosive. There were casualties on all sides. A flaw in the design of the cannons appeared to be that if they were struck at the right place and time, they would explode.

Wings of gryphons and wyverns flew from above, dropping bombs and spellfire. He could see flashes of Light as paladins called down spectral hammers to flatten their foes and shield their allies. Mages on both sides hurled fire and ice at one another. He could not see the other warriors but he imagined that the forces brought to bear against Garrosh's invasion forces would be as diverse as those brought to fight him in Orgrimmar.

The goblin zeppelin hovered out of range and stayed with the red sails of the Horde, who'd apparently kept to themselves on one side of the beach. The Alliance had stayed on their side of the beach as well. They were not fighting one another. Instead they fought the invasion.

Vol'jin was as much a fool as Varian was, and just as disappointing. Wrathion might have expected as much from Baine Bloodhoof, but the troll had always stuck Wrathion as far more pragmatic than this. It was almost a shame Sylvanas hadn't claimed leadership.

Another set of ships drew close from the Horde contingent and Wrathion felt a tremble deep in the Earth. A moment later a line of spiked earth erupted through the sand, destroying several of the canons and allowing the other Horde ships and the zeppelin to approach. Thrall, or Go'el, or whatever the damnable green, usurping bastard wished to call himself, had arrived.

The Iron Horde recovered and warriors swarmed over the dunes like a disturbed colony of mantids. From the Alliance there was a burst of violet light on one of the ships and then an answering burst on the beach. Violet explosions preceded more fire and ice and a sudden half-dome of arcane energy. From the dome warriors of the Alliance started to stream forth to do combat.

"Looks like someone from the Kirin Tor showed up," he mused. "I imagine Lady Proudmoore thinks she will get her revenge now."

Left peered outwards into the falling night. Wrathion handed her the scope and she examined the battlefield. "Not frost magic," she commented. "Arcane." Left pursed her lips then said, in a hushed tone, "Could be Archmage Modera."

"I suppose it is true Proudmoore prefers frost," he mused. He wasn't too familiar with this Modera person, but Left seemed to have some respect for him, whoever he was.

As the light of day faded he watched in growing consternation as the Iron Horde was pushed back by the Alliance and Horde forces. By an hour before sunset, the Iron Horde commander had apparently decided to let them have the beach and had firmed up his battle line. The way to Blackrock remained secure. Many couriers flew in and out of the camp on protodrakes or the off two-headed beasts.

"We should prepare for the night."

"This soon?" Wrathion asked, turning away from the withdrawing combatants.

"I want to hide our camp before the sun is gone." She bowed her head. "It will be cold soon and fire would not be a wise idea this night."

Wrathion sighed. "Very well."

He ate only a little jerky. He had no appetite. Left formed more bushes into makeshift walls. With their backs against a hard rock, they huddled close in the little wooden cavern she'd created. She draped the dull brown saddle blanket across the entrance and Wrathion carefully blew flames on some rocks to keep them at least a little warm. The brush was not perfect insulation by any means, but it did appear to conceal them.

As night fell and hunting beasts began to lurk in the forest, he was somewhat relieved that the combined smell of wyvern and dragon appeared to ward off creatures here as well. He settled on the big flat rock he'd heated, tucking his paws under and curling his tail tightly to conserve heat. It wasn't as dreadful a temperature drop as in a desert but it was unpleasant.

Stonehoof was likely dead, which was a shame. He'd liked the old shaman well enough. His loyalty was unquestionable. His abilities, atrophied as they were, were useful. He had also been a major source of information in the Mulgore area. Wrathion wondered if Grey and Right had faired as poorly as they had. The dwarf had hopefully avoided death as well on his flight to Duskwood. With a full compliment of his Talons he would have many, many more options. And Left...

"How is your arm?" For once he regretted his lack of ability to heal wounds as a red dragon could. He would easily bestow such favor on loyal champions.

"I'll live."

"Does it require more attention?"

She grunted. "Nothing stuck in there. Long as it doesn't get infected it should be fine."

He shifted on the rock. She'd saved his life and had been wounded in the process. It was her duty but all the same, he felt strange. He'd almost died. The last uncorrupted black dragon, killed by something as mundane as a fireball. From an Ogre no less. From an army he'd had some paw in building.

He buried his head under a wing and shuddered. He would not cry like some weak human child or pandaren cub. He was Wrathion, the Black Prince. Princes did not cry. Dragons did not cry. They especially did not cry when their favored minions were cunning enough to avoid death. One had died, but his personal bodyguard had not. That he knew of.

Wrathion shook. He had not often been near death himself. The last time it had been this close, this personal, had been Fahrad. Left was still alive and while Stonehoof's demise was regrettable it had been a sacrifice freely given to get him out of danger and away. Away from the army he had helped a treacherous bronze build.

A small blanket was placed over his back. It smelled of wyvern, orc and pandaren spices. The sudden weight startled him and he untucked his head from his wing.

"Try to get some sleep, your highness. I will keep watch." Left told him.

He grunted an affirmative noise and huddled under the blanket. He watched the horizon through a crack in the shelter. Moonlight glittered on the water, outlining the dark shapes of the tallships anchored out of the range of the deadly canons. Blue sails beside red, separate yet fighting the common enemy. Sleep did not come easily or soon.

[16]

Dawn broke to the sounds of cannon fire.

Wrathion's rock had grown cold in the night and the air in the little shelter was damp with morning mist. The wyvern still snoozed in the corner, its feline snout tucked under a wing, one ear twitching occasionally. Left not there but familiar voices spoke outside. Wrathion could smell breakfast. Likely this meant one of the groups had returned. Possibly even both.

He rose to stretch and get a report of the day. Sometime in the night a second blanket had been added to the first. Yawning, he shifted shape, folded the blankets neatly then went outside.

The Talons from Darkshire had arrived sometime in the night and the small camp area had been expanded. A fishing net covered in all manner of leaf-litter, branches and the hanging moss from the local trees protected the area from being spotted from above. A dranei, one side of her face deeply scarred, was tending to the miniscule campfire. The human across from her stirred a pot of what smelled like oatmeal. There were worgen in the trees and a human hunter was snoozing against his lounging pandaren tiger. They looked relaxed but he knew from Pandaria that it was largely an act. His Talons would respond at a moment's notice. Left and Flintrock were absent however.

"Prince Wrathion," a high voice greeted. The gnome put away his blade and hopped off the rock he'd been sitting on. "Good morning," he said, sweeping into a bow. "Lady Left sends her compliments. She's trying to do some early morning recon."

Wrathion nodded. "Thank you. When did you arrive?"

"Probably four hours ago, your highness. We have breakfast on the way and guards to secure the area. If we don't see Lady Left by night she's requested you move to Duskwood. If we're attacked, we've been ordered to take you there, your Highness."

Wrathion nodded. "I see."

"Do you need anything, your Highness"

Wrathion waved him off. "What can you tell me about the status of the battle? I see the ships are still here."

The gnome put his blades away and hopped back on the rock to be at eye-level with Wrathion. "They started bombardment just a bit ago. The Alliance has been teleporting in additional forces since we arrived and the Horde has had three zeppelins drop contingents of warriors. The horde have claimed the high ground out of direct fire. The Alliance has dug in on the beach but they're holding off those cannons. We don't know the status of our forces who went on recon or what the Iron Horde is doing at Blackrock."

Wrathion frown then waved off the rogue. "Thank you, Master Fizzbang."

"Your highness," he bowed.

Wrathion ate a little but his eyes were on the constant battle going on in the distance. He hated not knowing what was going on, but unless he approached himself there was little he was going to be able to discover. He was contemplating just that when one of the worgen let out a small warning growl.

"Incoming!"

The camp jumped to defensive positions in good order but Wrathion waved them down. He could see the details the others could not. "It's Left. Looks like she's found the others."

The group relaxed slightly, the guards returning to their posts, the others to their previous activities, though they kept wary eyes on the sky. The gryphons landed and deposited their passengers around the small camp. Right's hair was a mess and there was a scratch across her face. Master Grey had dark, blood-matted fur on one side of his head but his eyes were clear. Left's shoulder bandage had bled through and the dwarf had rubble in his beard. The gryphons fluffed their feathers and shifted in place once they landed.

"Medic Ali," Wrathion called. 

"On it, your highness!" The woman who'd been tending the food was already on her feet with a small kit of medical supplies. She began to see to Grey's injuries.

Right ran a hand through her hair, dislodging some rubble. She smelled of gunpowder, blackrock and iron slag. What gave him pause was the fear in her eyes.

"Your highness," she said, the urgency in her voice set him on edge.

"Report."

"Zaela and the Dragonmaw have taken Blackrock. They're building something. We got in and were able to hear some of it. There's a plot against Stormwind. Some big weapon they're forging in there. Zaela's got a grudge. I think she means to somehow blow up the city. We couldn't get close enough to find the details."

Wrathion arched an eyebrow then frowned. While something which could destroy Stormwind would end the war before it started. The Alliance would never recover. He nodded. "Is there something else?"

Her jaw clenched briefly. "I know there are Alliance scouts in the area. I saw some. Which means I didn't see the others. They probably know something even if they don't know the details."

He nodded and looked between the two bodyguards. "Who's in charge of the assault?"

"Of the Iron Horde, an orc named Gar'mak Bladetwist," Right answered. 

Left spoke up. "On the Alliance Side there's a Dranei named Maraad talking with The Mage. Archmage Khadgar's in the field," she said with visible relief. "Horde side, Thr- Shaman Go'el is in the field."

"It's a pretty mixed group both sides," Right continued. "Lots of champions are being deployed. Wrynn and Vol'jin seem serious about shutting down the invasion before Garrosh's forces make it further."

"Any of my champions or allies?"

"The Rogue let me see her," Right said. "She's killing Iron Horde trying to stealth past the front lines. Her kill count is... impressive. The Mage is part of the group attempting to retake Nethergarde keep. I've seen others but those are the two most prominent names."

"The Iron Horde has set up a beachhead," Left said, crouching to draw out the area with her dagger. "Their forces are a mix of casters and warriors. Mostly orc but some ogres. They've set up an encampment here and the battlelines between the forces from the portal and the forces from Azeroth are here," she said inscribing some lines in the dirt. "The Iron Horde felt back from the beach. They've dug in to Okril'lon. I believe that might be where the commander is located." She marked the relative area on the improvised map, dropping stones to mark the mountain ridge."

"Any sign of Kairoz?"

"None, your highness," Left said.

"He wasn't at Blackrock either," Right added.

Wrathion scowled. He needed this to work, needed the Horde and Alliance to stop their pointless struggle and bend knee to the Iron Horde. He was about to solicit ideas for how to sabotage the Horde and Alliance efforts when a gryphon descended at speed. The Talons in the clearing reached for their weapons until the all clear was given. It was one of their own. The gryphon dropped to the ground and raced over, the human ride still mounted.

"Movement in the camps!" he said, hopping off his mount. He skid to a halt in front of Wrathion. "The Iron Horde is in disarray! They're being pushed back to the portal."

"What? What happened?" Wrathion asked.

"I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "I was told to report in if there was any change. The ground forces of both sides are fighting the Iron horde back towards the portal."

Wrathion found the eyes of his bodyguards. "I need to see."

Left's scowl deepened. Right's expression tightened. Nevertheless they began quietly issuing orders for him to move out with an escort. There were about a dozen Talons present now, not counting his bodyguards. Half would escort him. The rest would play the part of scout or remain in the camp.

Midmorning found Wrathion seated on a gryphon with Right while Left and the others had formed a tight honor guard. The dranei mage held a veil of invisibility over the party as they crossed into the Horde then Alliance airspace before landing on the nearby mountain.

"Neseema can hold this for about twenty minutes total, your highness," Right advised in a quiet voice by his ear.

"Noted," Wrathion acknowledged.

On the beach below he could see that the lines had indeed advanced into the Iron Horde's territory despite all sense of rationality. "How are they doing this?" Wrathion hissed.

"Looks more disorganized than before," Right said, frowning as she viewed the battlefield though binoculars. "Nethergarde is back in Alliance hands." She looked on with her own eyes, scowling. "Ogres aren't fighting well. The Horde warriors are ripping them to shreds. The Alliance line has even turned some of those big cannons on the Iron Horde."

The Iron Horde looked leaderless and confused to Wrathion. He could not make out any of the champions he'd worked with, but he could see a large Draenei at the head of the Alliance assault, beside the human mage who'd been providing much of the arcane muscle. Khadgar. No signs of Wrynn or Proudmoore. Vol'jin was absent but Thrall was there bringing considerable power to bear as well.

"Analysis?"

"Someone killed the leadership," Right concluded.

Wrathion nodded. "The Rogue?"

"Possible."

"I don't see The Mage down there."

"Neither do I, your Highness. But... But I think I see some of ours." She pointed at a section of the field where two warriors in plate were smashing through the Iron Horde forces. One was a Tauren the other was a Night Elf. The pair wore dark plate and carried wicked looking runeblades in each hand. With chilling ice and deadly weapon skills they were cutting a path through their foes.

"Itolla and Calaena. A druid and a rogue before they were raised as Deathknights if I recall."

"Correct, your Highness. They were almost as deadly as the two champions, and they're full Talons."

"If so, then what are they doing down there?" Wrathion growled.

Right grimaced. "I don't know your Highness."

Wrathion blew out a breath. "We need people on the inside of those camps."

"Make contact?"

"Yes. We'll back off a bit so mage Neseema won't be burned out, but I need to speak with those two. I need to see where their loyalties are and if they are still loyal then they are of use." He gestured to the chaos of the battle. "There are still more forces being teleported in on both sides. It shouldn't be too hard for us to get into the camps."

Right bobbed a not. "Not hard at all, your Highness. I'll see it done."

In short order the group was hidden by more mundane means than magic and two of the more non-descript members of the Talons were deployed to the Horde and Alliance forces to make contact.

Wrathion watched the northern horizon. Blackrock was in the far distance, obscured by closer mountains, but it was there. He wondered what the near-break in the Iron Horde lines would mean for whatever Zaela was concocting inside the mountain. He returned his attention to the Alliance and Horde who were by all appearances winning against a force which should have destroyed them. He needed to act but he was once again uncertain how. He scowled, and waited.

[17]

The sun was high overhead when the two deathknights made their way up to the small impromptu encampment. The air had been unpleasantly muggy with biting insects as the wind blew from the land to the sea. As the two Deathknights stepped into the area, the air chilled noticeably and the buzzing insects fled from the cold.

Itolla, the tauren woman, was tall even for her race. She wore dark plate armor formed into the image flashfrozen branches. Red berries made of gemstones were affixed to the metal branches. They branches and berries were encased in real ice. The exposed fur on her face was black as were her horns. Her eyes glowed fathomless blue. The undead tauren had a serene air about her and strode into the middle of the encampment as if she were walking through a familiar field, showing little anxiety nor particular interest. An ear flick was the only sign of anything when she beheld Wrathion, seated on a rock in the center of the ring of Black Talons.

In stark contrast the night elf named Calaena could not seem to stand still. Her glowing blue eyes seemed to flicker as she looked around, assessing and evaluating those present. She was a very pale purple, the markings around her eyes bold in contrast to her undead skin. Her hair was long and white, but that could have been the color it was before she'd died. Her plate was Pandaren designed and bore the images of cloud serpents. Originally a brassy gold color, It had been smudged and blackened intentionally with some substance. Possibly they'd been operating at night. Fahrad had explained to Wrathion that the shine of metal could attract unwanted attention in firelight.

The tauren peered at him a moment then nodded and folded her hands in front of her. "What would you have me do, Black Prince?"

"Well for starters what have you been up to? You were not those who have been in contact since we moved our operations."

"Funeral," Itolla said. "After we left Pandaria I was told that a friend of mine had decided he was done with his unlife and it was time for him to return to the Earthmother. With Arthas dead, he felt his purpose was done. Our former brothers and sisters in the Cenarion circle gave him a final rest."

"I see."

She shrugged broad shoulders. "His work was done. Mine isn't. My Prince, I regret to inform you that Baine Bloodhoof has declared you and your supporters unwelcome in his territory."

Wrathion suppressed a sigh. "So Stonehoof has told me. It is good to have that information independently verified."

She inclined her head. "I came here because there was an invasion and the call went out for shields and swords. Our duty is the protect Azeroth."

He nodded and turned red eyes on the night elf. "And you?"

"Went home to try to mend some fences. Didn't work too well. Got tied up in settling my affairs once and for all." She bowed her head. "I was headed for Duskwood when the call went out to attend to matters here." She looked up at Wrathion. "There's a rumor going around, your highness. That you went mad."

"I am perfectly sane."

"Rumor is you helped Garrosh Hellscream escape. We were trying to destroy him last I heard."

Wrathion blew out a breath. "It was as a measure to ensure a stronger, more unified Horde which could conquer Azeroth. He would not have outlived his usefulness."

Caleana bowed her head. 

Wrathion growled. "Kairoz was supposed to be puppeting Garrosh and his Iron Horde but has apparently betrayed me. I need to know who is in control of this Iron Horde. Is it Garrosh, Kairoz, or someone else. I need to make sure that their goals and aims align with ours and if they do not, then they need to be made to align. Which means I need people in the Alliance and Horde camps." He stood and walked towards the edge of the cliff. "What do you know so far?"

The night elf spoke up first. "I saw The Mage briefly earlier. She's on the team sent in to Blackrock. Will that disrupt your plans, your highness?"

"If Zaela isn't strong enough to repel the Alliance team then, she's not going to do much against the Legion. She'll have proven herself as weak as Wrynn and Vol'jin. If she is successful, she's already pledged herself to Garrosh's Iron Horde."

"The rumor is that the leader of the invasion is dead. Assassinated in the night," the tauren said.

"That would track with what I have seen," the other deathknight said. "They lack the cohesion of a central command."

Wrathion held up a hand and they fell silent. He looked at each of them, wondering at how loyal they truly were. He didn't have many options at the moment. These two were already integrated into the Alliance and Horde camps. As deathknights they had some autonomy from the typical factional split and were excellent tools with long reaches. They were also some of his more covert Talons. With Baine Bloodhoof taking a stand against him, and possibly others, he needed hidden blades.

"Kairoz's plan was to forge an infinite number of strong, uncorrupted Hordes from Draenor. They would advance on Azeroth and conquer. We would be united to face the Legion, our numbers bolstered many times over. The plan was not without its risks. One of those was the Bronze himself. Wrynn was too weak. Vol'jin only needed to join the invaders but he has chosen instead to fight. The Legion is coming and with it, the doom of all on Azeroth unless we are united under one banner. There can be no confusion or we will splinter and fall. There must be a clear victor, a clear ruler." Wrathion looked each deathknight in the eye. "I need you to be my eyes and ears in the camps. We have already lost too much time to Wrynn's weakness and to whatever mess the traitorous Bronze has wrought. Time grows short and our options grow fewer. You can do what no one else among my Talons can do."

The tauren lifted her chin, shoulders straightening. The antsy night elf grew still. Good. it did not take much to remind them of their place in the grander scheme of things. "Join the camps once more. If they move, move with them. Everything we do and have done has been for the good of Azeroth. Not everyone else will understand, Sometimes we need to make the hard choices, take the difficult stances, be the blade and shield when no one else can."

Itolla bowed her head. His words had been chosen to resonate with her, but they were not less true. 

"We have a war on the horizon, but we can win it, here and now. We do what we must to protect Azeroth," he said, addressing the night elf. She nodded once, face stony. She'd been a sentinel.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes," the answered, their slightly metallic voices buzzing in the air.

"Good. Go before they notice you are gone and throw yet more obstacles in our way."

They bowed and left quickly, their strides determined. Wrathion watched after them with a sense of satisfaction. He felt as if he had almost seen when their doubts had fallen away. He turned back to the rest of the camp and was pleased to see renewed fire in their eyes as well.

"We'll move camp here," he said. "If the battle lines break down again we can move, but this seems to be a secure location and it will allow us to gather intelligence more easily." He grinned at the chorus of assent and returned his gaze to the battle lines. He gestured and Right and Left fell into place by his side.

"Thoughts on those two?" he asked.

"The tauren is unquestionable. She cares about Azeroth beyond even her own unlife," Left said.

"The night elf... She is very talented. With the tauren around to keep her steadfast she has been fine and committed, you gave her something to believe in again once Arthas was dead, but she is not at peace with her life as an undead warrior."

Wrathion nodded. He glanced back at the talons making preparations to move their small camp to this new locations then looked over the battlefield again. "There's a gnome rogue in our forces at present. Would he be able to slip into the Alliance forces?"

"Easily. He's a known mercenary but I see a number of those down there. His association with you is easily explained as hired muscle. Many champions sought your favor in Pandaria," Right reported.

"Send him in then. If the ebonbade breaks, we'll have a backup."

Right bowed and stepped away to make the arrangements.

"Shall I send one to the Horde side?" Left asked. 

"Keep an eye on the tauren if you can, but I feel she won't be an issue."

"Of course, your highness."

He dismissed her with a gesture and watched as an arcane volley burst from the tall grey-haired human mage on the left flank. A rumble of earth was the only warning before the damned orc called for the ground to erupt under the feet of some Iron Horde repairing a canon.

Soon his talons would be in place and then... Then he'd be able to make something of this mess.


	3. 18 - 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The invasion of Draenor takes an interesting turn for Wrathion and his allies, leading him to critical decisions in a place very far from Azeroth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an experiment in ficwriting intended to get me to write consistently. Entries will vary in editing and length. I am updating frequently on Tumblr ( variousandsundrywritings.tumblr.com ) and will add blocks of chapters here as I finish larger selections.

[18]

Their camp was established once more and with his people deployed to their tasks, Wrathion watched the battle. It was like watching the tide. The Iron Horde would press forward and the forces of Azeroth would retreat, rally then press back against the Horde. And, like the tide, the forces from Azeroth were slowly creeping up the beach.

If only Varian had shown this much heart and dedication in Pandaria.

"Your highness!"

Wrathion turned to see Flintrock and Grey "escorting" a hooded orc forward. His body was covered in wounds from claws and the broken shaft of an arrow stuck out from a shoulder. Wrathion could smell blood even from across the campsite. The orc's skin was the chestnut brown of the uncorrupted clans of Draenor. His clothing was shredded and he lacked armor. perhaps a peon?

Grey pulled a knife from his belt and presented it hilt-first to Wrathion as he spoke. "We caught this one sneaking around. Think he was trying to get into the Alliance camp but he came too close to us."

Ah. A rogue then. Wrathion nodded and the dwarf kicked the hooded orc's knees, the worgen forcing him to the ground before their prince. The hood was ripped away and the orc blinked in the sudden light. He sneered at the worgen then at Wrathion.

"You fight for Hellscream?"

The orc spat, just missing Wrathion's shoe. Grey socked him in the jaw. The orc growled and spat out a tooth.

"You fight for Hellscream?" Wrathion asked again, far less amused than he'd been moments ago.

The orc sneered.

Wrathion rolled his eyes. "Well you should know that I am one of the people partially responsible for helping him escape from Pandaria. I require the whereabouts of Kairozdormu." he folded his hands behind his back and looked down at the orc, ensuring his eyes glowed menacingly.

The orc looked him up and down, slightly more guarded but with less terror and respect than Wrathion would have wished. "Who?"

Wrathion drew in a breath, waited a beat, then let it out. He nodded at Grey who obligingly socked the Orc in the jaw again.

"Kairozdormu," Wrathion repeated as the Orc swayed back into a more or less upright position. "He is the bronze dragon who brought Garrosh Hellscream to Draenor. I want his whereabouts."

The orc snorted. "Don't know him. Garrosh Hellscream appeared two years ago. Said he was the Warchief's son. Knew things. He was alone."

"So Grommash leads the Iron Horde."

The insubordinate orc grunted.

"Well, I am an ally of your Warchief."

The Orc sneered and this time Flintrock was the one to strike him. The orc began to laugh though blood dripped down his face and one tusk had been broken by the dwarf's fist.

"You're all dead! Dead! You'll be crushed under the boots of the Iron Horde! All of your pitiful people. You're as soft as the dranei! Just curl up and die now, human!" the orc spat again, hitting Wrathion's toe this time.

Wrathion transformed. "I am no human!"

The Orc frowned then laughed. "You look like one of the creatures we're going to ride. A little baby one. I've eaten game birds larger than y-" he was cut off as Grey's blow broke the other tusk.

Wrathion seethed, curls of smoke escaping from the sides of his snout. This orc could have meant the protodrakes... but there had been infinite dragons at the temple. And Garrosh had appeared alone. Had he been astride a fearsome bronze mount, controlled somehow? Wrathion needed to know if Kairoz had been the one betrayed instead.

"Tell me what the Dragonmaw plans are!"

"Your pathetic city will fall! The weapon will destroy it utterly! The Iron horde will claim these lands, take you all as slaves! And I will ride you, beast!" He lunged forward with sudden speed and determination, a wild light in his eyes.

Wrathion acted on instinct and unleashed flame into the orc's face. The orc screamed and howled as the scent of charred flesh filled the glade. The orc lunged for Wrathion, but the whelp was shoved aside and covered by Right's body. In almost the same moment, the orc was slain by a shot between the eyes from Left's weapon.\, the swords and arrows from the other Talons descending to hit in the split-second after.

Wrathion couldn't hear anything but the pounding of his heart in his ears. Eventually, Right let him up, apologizing as she brushed rocks off his now-dusty scales.

"No need to apologize for doing your job," he told her. "Dispose of the body. Make sure the altercation was not noticed."

His Talons went about their business, but Wrathion needed a few moments before he was calm enough to transform back to his human form. 

So the plot to destroy Stormwind was accurate information. Somehow Zaela thought she could do it and this orc believed her. And she might possibly be riding dragons rather than protodrakes. And Kairoz might be dead at Garrosh's hands. Garrosh did not lead the Iron Horde, his father did. Wrathion forced his fist to unclench.

Grommash would be a less politically charged choice than Garrosh was. When the Iron Horde came to rule, those like Zaliya or Proudmoore would be more inclined to bow before the father than the son. Probably. Anduin would-

Wrathion felt a sudden grip on his heart.

Should Stormwind fall...

"Your highness?" Right asked.

He waved her off with a curt gesture, drew himself up, his hands clasped behind his back as he once more surveyed the battle.

_"Are we friends?"_

Wrathion closed his eyes and set his jaw. Azeroth was more important than his friends.

_Protect Azeroth._

He let out a soft, shaky breath, trying to dismiss the maelstrom of feelings. They were weak. He had to be strong, unmoving, the bedrock of Azeroth. It's protector. The last of the black dragons. Wrathion closed his eyes, the memory of green fel flames licking at the edges of his sight. A single banner must be lifted against an army of demons.

"Your Highness!"

Wrathion hid a wince. "Yes?"

"On the horizon," Left said, pointing northward.

There were dark shapes flying in loose formation. Black spots against the sunset orange clouds. Were they friend or foe? Wrathion set his jaw and waited for fate to reveal the answer.

The black spots resolved into figured mounted in flying creatures. He saw the flap of protodrake wings and his heart stopped until the others resolved into the avian wings of gryphons. Among the shapes was the steady flap-then-coast of a dragon, a motion he knew in his bones. The figure was purple in the setting sun, but he knew it was Archmage Zaliya using the guise of the blue dragon Tarecgosa.

"So Zaela has fallen," Wrathion observed. The group moved in good order and with determination rather than panicked haste. If they had failed they would almost certainly have been killed or would have followed whatever device Zaela had constructed to destroy Stormwind.

_And so Anduin lives._

"Movement," Left grunted, pointing at the battlefield below.

And so there was. The combined forces of the Horde and Alliance, apparently bolstered by the apparently victory in Blackrock pushed the leaderless Iron Horde into clusters where they were utterly annihilated. The beachhead village was set ablaze, lighting the battlefield and casting flickering shadows into the fading light of day.

Thrall, the mage and the massive draenei met in the center of the battlefield with a blood elf paladin and others. The final push against the Iron Horde was made, driving them back to the portal. The returning forces, and Wrathion wasn't surprised to see there were actually a few members of the Horde on wyverns, circled in to land. The blue dragon landed at their head and shifted into her worgen form. She called down a blizzard to cover the others. The returning forces threw themselves into the battle after dismounting under the protective cover of ice and snow.

The Mage ran over to the combined command staff. The Rogue appeared out of a shadow as well. The small conference was held then the two Champions as well as the commanders ran for the portal. Wrathion gritted his teeth as he watched the combined force strike into the center of the invasion, forcing open a path. His talons fell smoothly into their places, pushing with the advancing group.

"We need to move."

"Your highness?" 

"They're crossing over."

"Are you suggesting we follow them through the portal?"

As he watched, the warband crossed into the dark portal and disappeared. "Yes that is exactly what I am saying."

Right bowed.

"Wait. Bring supplies," Wrathion said.

She nodded and the cam was broken and stowed in short order. Fighting continued like a tide lapping at the shoreline again. Wrathion shifted shape and hopped onto the saddle before Right as he and the other Talons took off, covered once more by the strained powers of the draenai mage.

Perhaps a quarter hour had passed. The talons flew in close formation, the wings of their beasts angled to make the best speed for the portal. They'd enter towards the top of the massive edifice and avoid fire. Probably.

Wrathion sunk his talons into the saddle as thee gryphon began its dive for the fathomless entrance.

The doorway flashed out of existence.

"NO!"

The Iron Horde failed in the sudden confusion. The line of Alliance and Horde warriors fell upon them like an unrelenting wave. Blood spilled on the sands and orcs and ogres fell.

"No!" he called out as the gryphon was pulled out of the dive.

"Your Highness, the portal is closed!"

Failed. He'd failed.

"Your Highness?"

"No," he whispered, willing the portal to reappear between the stones, but the stones remained silent.

Right straightened and made a whirling gesture to the Talons. "We back off until we see if it opens again!"

Wrathion watched, helpless once more, as the portal grew more distant . His company of Talons retreated to the nearby hills to watch and wait.

[19]

"Report."

Grey bowed his head. In his human form he was a hard-haired, short man with broad shoulders and a broken nose. Hardly anyone had seen him in his original human state, Wrathion certainly hadn't. 

"The assault force closed the portal, but the situation on the other side is rather grim."

A full day had passed, watching and waiting. It had finally come in the unmistakeable form of a violet-tinted portal in the middle of the now-empty battlefield. A gnome had fallen out.

"The gnome reports that they had to destroy the portal. The weapons described on the other side are.... impressive. Khadgar and the rest of the force have connected with the Draenei native to Draenor. They have made their way through the Iron Horde's forces and stolen ships, the Azeroth Horde going one way, the Alliance another."

Wrathion nodded sharply. "And? Contact? Are they restoring the portal?"

"No, your Highness. Archmage Khadgar will be opening smaller ones briefly, he says.

"Where? When?"

"Orgrimmar and Stormwind. In three days time. They expect to make landfall and create a beachhead from which to assault the Iron Horde."

"Stormwind is closer. When the opportunity presents itself, we must go through." Wrathion nodded at Grey. "Good work."

Grey bowed and then began to transform back into his worgen form, apparently relieved to do so by the satisfied sigh. Wrathion turned to his lieutenants. 

"Gather what forces we can and supplies. We'll join the expedition and cross over." He eyed Grey who was stretching out his arms and legs and cracking his back. "We'll use the Stormwind safehouse as a staging area. I'm afraid it means disguises for you and the others," he said, nodding at Left.

She bowed her head. "We'll see it done, your Highness."

* * *

Wrathion had only been to Stormwind a few times, but he'd never stayed for long. He wouldn't be staying long this time either. Their party was broken up into pairs and small groups. They'd joined the flow of traffic into the city, becoming invisible merchants, craftspeople and traders.

The safehouse was in the trade district. It was small and sparsely furnished, but highly defensible. Wrathion had his own room and, to his pleasure, a proper bath. After a fashion at least. Heating the huge copper pot was simple enough with some flame and while he couldn't fit in his human form, his true form had ample room to soak away the past week.

Two days. Supposedly in two days, Khadgar would summon reinforcements. It spoke to the Archmage's power that he could do such a thing. Wrathion had tasked Right with devising an up to date report for him on Khadgar. Left, in the guise of a human, had set up a watch in the Stormwind Harbor and close to the military quarter. The others had been tasked with assembling supplies; essential items they would find hard to replace once they crossed over.

Clean and fed, Wrathion considered what to do next. Through the open window he could see the towering spires of the Cathedral. The golden roof tiles sparkled in the sun, reflecting the devotion to the Light that had been a part of Stormwind's culture and tradition for generations.

Anduin had trained there.

Wrathion turned away from the window. Had Zaela been successful it was possible the cathedral, the whole city, might have been destroyed. He casually surveyed the work being done by his Talons, waving them back to their tasks as he strolled through. He stopped by the window again. This one faced the still-ruined portions of the city. 

Wrathion surveyed his father's handiwork for a long moment then turned away again. He needed to get out. To stretch his wings. To leave this place for just a moment. It would be a good test of his skills at concealment. He'd not practiced those in a long while and they would surely be needed. Yes, that would be a good use of his time.

"I'm going out," he told Right. He waved her down after she rose. "I'll be fine on my own."

"Your Highness-"

Wrathion assumed his true shape and hovered in the air. A moment's focus and some inspiration from Khadgar's file and he resembled a raven. A very large raven, but he no longer looked like a dragon whelp

"I am going." 

Right sighed then bowed. Wrathion felt slightly badly for adding another stress, but he flew out the window anyway.

Flying as a bird was not as easy as he'd first thought it would be. Tailfeathers were strange and the wings cupped the air in odd ways he wasn't accustomed to feeling. He managed to straighten out after a little bit and he didn't fall out of the air.

Soaring after so long felt good. He watched the people below, going about their days, and wondered if they'd known there had been a weapon pointed at them. Angling his wings towards the castle, he wondered if the Prince was there or if he'd been evacuated. The danger was over now, but there was every chance Varian had removed Anduin from the area.

The Pandaren balloon hovering over a lake was a familiar sight. Wrathion saw it was presently empty and landed on the railing. Eventually. Raven feet had one too many toes and one of the blasted things was backwards. Settled and reasonable secure he cheated and used the vision of his normal eyes to survey the area.

The castle appeared to be a normal hive of activity with guards posted at regular intervals, their armor neat and tidy. They lacked the visual tension of a crisis. The harbor was a different story. There the activity was a controlled frenzy. Wood planks and crates were being assembled into piles by workers and cranes. A small impromptu armory had exploded on the dock nearby. It looked like a staging area was being set up. Ah. So then they likely expected Khadgar to portal there.

And below the balloon... Below the king of Stormwind was sparring with one of the Pandaren. The witnesses were mostly pandaren with a few guards sprinkled in between. And a familiar golden-haired prince. Wrathion hopped off the balloon and circled down to settle in the nearest tree to watch events. His descent was noticed then ignored. Wrathion made a mental note to insist his guards not do the same; he'd taken inspiration for this shape from a human mage after all.

The pandaren master was a female and quite skilled. Aysa he believe her name was; the leader of the pandaren who'd chosen to align themselves with the Alliance. Her style was fluid, constantly moving and weaving. The King's style differed in that he would watch, wait, then strike with power. It made their match an interesting ebb and flow. They were not holding back either. Loud strikes that made the crowd flinch could easily be heard throughout the area. Wrathion noted Anduin appeared to be itching to reach out and heal, his expression a frozen wince. Despite this, he remained in place around the edge. The pandaren and the king appeared to be having a grand time. Wrathion was disappointed that Wrynn hadn't shown this same ferocity in Orgrimmar.

After and exchange of blows the two combatants retreated, bowing to one another. The crowd applauded politely and began to disperse. Anduin ran over to see if anyone was seriously hurt but it was clear the sparring match hadn't left either the worse for the wear.

"Thank you, Aysa," Varian said. 

"It is my pleasure, Your Majesty."

"I will miss sparring when you return home." He looked at his guards. "None of my people put up a fight quite like you do."

The pandaren laughed. "Given they are in charge of your protection, I imagine they find it very hard to be asked to inflict damage, Your Majesty."

"Fair, I suppose," Wrynn said, waving a hand. "But all the same, I look forward to your next visit. Bring Ji with you."

Both Anduin and Master Cloudsinger reacted with surprise at that pronouncement. Varian's grin was wolfish. "My intelligence people are already having litters of kittens but I've ruled that the communication restrictions we'd imposed between Horde and Alliance aligned Pandaren are to be loosened."

Cloudsinger's hands had gone to cover her mouth but now she clasped them before her and bowed deeply. "That will be most welcome among my people, Your Majesty."

Wrynn looked off over the sea a moment before returning his attention to the prince and the monk. "I still don't like elements of the Horde or what they have done, but Garrosh is not the entire Horde and there have been missteps on both sides." He clapped a hand on Anduin's shoulder. "And perhaps there is something to be said for opening such an obvious and broad line of communication."

Cloudsinger bowed again and the Prince and King made their farewells, departing for the castle.

Wrathion watched in open-beak astonishment for a minute before scrambling to fly after the pair. He lost sight of the humans as they entered the palace but they reappeared in the little courtyard off the throne room. Wrathion flew down to perch inconspicuously in a tree.

"Go ahead. Say it. You're fairly bursting," Wrynn said with a broad smirk.

"Father- What brought this on?"

Varian lifted an eyebrow. "I'd have thought you'd be pleased," he said, tone teasing.

Anduin rolled his eyes, grinning. "I am but... Why now?"

Varian sat on one of the stone benches and began to take off his armor. Anduin helped him undo the clasps and fastenings of the heavy plate, the golden eagle head coming away after a moment.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking," the king admitted. Wrathion had to strain to hear his words. It was infuriating.

"About?"

"You. Me. The Alliance. Azeroth." He gestured around. "All of this." He pulled off the golden lion pauldron and looked at it. "I did and have done what I thought was right for our people and for the Alliance. I still think that the choices I have made have largely been good ones. Or at least good given the information I had at the time."

"What changed then?" Anduin asked.

"You changed me."

"Me?"

"You. The... business in the Vale. The Siege. The trial in Pandara."

"I'm not saying anything different from what I have been saying. Aunt Jaina has been saying it for far longer."

"She has. And I am grateful she was there to teach you so it could eventually get through to me. Actual peace won't come for a while. Probably not in my lifetime. But in yours?" He smiled gently for a long silent moment in which Anduin fidgeted.

"You are going to be a wonderful king. I am already so proud of what you've done."

"Father-" Anduin started, breaking off into speechlessness.

Wrynn wrapped an arm around Anduin's shoulders, tugged him close, and kissed his forehead. "I was a warrior when Stormwind needed a warrior. But I don't think they'll need a warrior like me forever. What they'll need is you."

"Father you're not... sick are you? If you are, I can heal it! Or try at least!"

Varian laughed, loudly but not unkindly. "No." He squeezed Anduin in a hug. "No, but I don't say it enough. The trial... the other you died. Our Jaina died. It's made me think about how much time we may or may not have with one another. How easily it can end. I was so frightened when you were missing. The battle at the temple brought all that fear back to me. I don't say it enough, but I'm proud."

"That I was shipwrecked and nearly killed by a falling bell?"

Wrathion was actually a bit surprised by the undercurrent of bitter sharpness in Anduin's words.

Varian put a stern hand on his son's shoulders. "No. That when I tried to turn you into a warrior like me, you stood up and told me you had a different path. That you've stopped me from doing things I would regret. That when you saw terrible evil about to happen you stopped it the only way you knew how."

"I was so afraid."

"Yes," Varian smiled. "You were afraid and yet you acted anyway. That's true courage. True strength. It's taken me too long to see that. You taught me." He prodded Anduin's chest.

Father and son embraced and what was said next, Wrathion could not hear. Feeling strange, he took off. He flew higher and higher until he would only be a speck in the sky from the ground. Then he shifted into his true shape, oddly unable to hang onto the raven form for longer. Below him lay the ruined quarter of Stormwind; his father's work.

What had he just witnessed? He'd come to understand Varian Wrynn was weak but this was far, far beyond. He was talking about eventual peace! With the Horde! Varian Wrynn! And it had been Anduin's doing. Somehow. Wrynn wasn't angry that Garrosh had nearly killed him and his son again. He was talking about talking! With the Horde! Even after what was going on in the blasted lands and in Blackrock. Yes it was "talking" with the implication of using the pandaren as mediators, but these were his enemies! Wrathion's chest ached. His wings ached. The air was cold and thin. Wrathion swiftly shifted back into a raven and made for the safehouse. Something was wrong with his chest. It was too tight and his eyes stung.

He landed in a heap of feathers and shifted into his true form, his mind still too unsteady to take on his human shape. He waved off the concerns of the Talons and lit the fire with a blast of flame. He was so cold and his chest hurt. He waited until the fire had grown pleasantly and then crawled inside, moving things until he had a nest of burning wood. The chill of the air left but the tight ache remained. 

 

[20]

The golden medallion caught the lamplight as it spun on the table. Wrathion caught it before it fell and spun it again.

"We've been able to secure the schedule for the transfer tomorrow," Right was saying. She'd secured a large slate from someplace and had sketched out the Stormwind Harbor and the staging area being assembled there. "Some of us are listed as workforce for the beachhead garrison. However given the limited time the portal will be open, we expect they won't be checking too closely as shipments go through."

"If you're wearing a disguise," Mage Neseema said, "You'll want to avoid being touched or disturbed. The best way I've found is to partner up with someone and get them to body-block any jostling. We secured these cloaks to help hide," she said, patting a pile of study-looking hunter's cloaks. "With any luck everyone will just think you're Worgen or Draenei," she said, nodding at the handful of Tauren and trolls who'd been smuggled into the city.

"What's the status of things on the other side?" Wrathion asked. He spun the medallion again. The dragons inscribed on the edges appeared to flow and move in an endless drance if he spun it just right.

"Chaotic," Right said. She nodded and Left unrolled a map of Draenor onto the table. "The message from Khadgar indicated everyone is on ships heading for two landing points here and here," she pointed out the locations on the map. "The Alliance is coordinating with the Draenei and the Horde are going to seek the aid of the Frostwolves."

"When the portal opens we're not sure what we'll be walking into but I was able to obtain copies of their plans once they reach Draenor," Right said.

"What is the plan?"

"Admiral Taylor is going to be setting up a garrison as well. Archmage Zaliya is operating as another commander." She marked on the map where the two garrisons would be set up. "They expect that Taylor and his company will remain briefly before striking out."

"Access back here?"

Right nodded at Neseema.

"The Council in Dalaran is evaluating a number of plans but everything seems to hinge on what Khadgar says he needs. That said, the battlemages and camp suppliers who were in Thunder Isle have been drawn back in preparation to assist in Draenor. They're forming up portal teams."

Wrathion pursed his lips in thoughts. "Supply lines to Draenor?" He asked, looking at Right as he spun the medallion again.

The human nodded. "Looks like it."

"Ideas on who they'll send as combatants?" Wrathion asked, looking back at the mage. "Proudmoore? Windrunner?" The disk rattled as it settled to the tabletop. He picked it up and sat back in his chair.

The draenei mage shrugged. "I'd be speculating your highness, but I imagine we'll see Archmage Modera in the field at some point. Beyond that I don't know."

Wrathion nodded. He turned the medallion over in his hands. The ambient magic of the Bronze flight felt like warm sand through his fingers; the warmth was nice but the gritty component was slightly irritating. Much like Kairoz.

"We'll cross over together then decide where it is most advantageous for us to be." He stood and all eyes were on him. 

His Talons were mostly members of the Alliance here, but there were a couple orcs, a few Tauren and some trolls. He felt his chest swell in pride as he realized just how many had been smuggled into Stormwind on his word. He's done well recruiting good talent. He looked at each one, meeting their eyes, evaluating and assessing.The worgen turned their heads very slightly to the side, a showing of submission to his authority as well as respect. The dwarves faced him square on, hands bared and open, a sign of respect among the forthright people. They were so different from the Tauren who bowed their heads slightly or the trolls who grinned and smirked, or the humans who bowed and saluted. They all worked for him.

"Once we are across, those who can, will hide among the Alliance Garrison personnel. Those who cannot will come with me and set up an encampment close by. Once we have a better read on the situation, we will act accordingly. Get some sleep. We move tomorrow."

The group dispersed, leaving him with his bodyguards and only a few others who were wiping the slates clean and picking their maps.

Wrathion sat and regarded the medallion. "What do you think the odds are that Kairoz is alive?" he asked Left.

The orc sat across from him and began to disassemble her weapon. "Doesn't sound good, but my understanding is that Bronze dragons can be tricky." She grinned at him, "perhaps not as tricky as Blacks though."

Wrathion snorted a laugh and set the Medallion down. "I think I'd prefer him dead over having betrayed our goals," Wrathion mused. "And it might mean he wasn't lying when he gave me this." He held up the medallion.

Left looked at it as she continued to turn her fine, precision rifle into so many component parts for easier smuggling. She dropped her gaze when her eyes met his. Curious but polite. Still it wouldn't hurt for his bodyguards to be aware of the importance of the device. Wrathion looked around. Grey and Flintrock were trustworthy as was the Draenei mage, the Tauren Shaman and the Troll druid packing herbs into parcels for transport.

"Right," he called and the human joined him at the table. Wrathion set the medallion down then opened it, revealing the inner workings and the captured hourglass in the center.

"Kairoz gave this to me to assure my services. I am reluctant to spread this information far, but you should be aware of it." He closed the device again. "In addition to an infinite Horde to bring to bear against the Legion, he offered me the times and locations of unattended black dragon eggs. From before their corruption."

Right blinked. Left made a thoughtful sound then nodded. The others drifted over to be part of the discussion.

"And with a bronze you could journey someplace where you'd be able to let them grow up," Left mused.

Wrathion nodded. "Karioz could give me what no one else on Azeroth could. Time."

"A flight of uncorrupted blacks?" The dwarf stroked his beard. "That'd be a sight to see."

The tauren made a thoughtful sound. "Balance," was all he said, but he nodded in approval.

"We gon' raise baby dragons after dis, Boss?" the druid asked.

Wrathion chuckled and tucked the medallion away. "We'll see. It required the aid of a bronze dragon to use. First, we have to sort out the situation with the Iron Horde and Azeroth. Once we have assured unity then we can see about stealing some time before the Legion arrives." he looked each in the eye. "Discretion on this matter is expected."

They all bowed then returned to their tasks. Wrathion watched them for awhile then decided to get some air. He flew out the window then landed on the roof. It was night but why court disaster this late in the plan? He turned away from the view of the ruined quarter of Stormwind and instead looked toward the castle. Few lights were on this late at night. The window he knew to be the Prince's was still lit. As he watched the lights began to dim then finally go out as the Prince went to bed.

Wrathion had the strange notion to fly up there and have a conversation. Except then it would probably shut down their staging operation. He tapped his claws against the roof. He and Anduin would just have to settle their differences some other time. The fate of Azeroth was more important than a single friendship. And definitely more than one that was possibly already over. He stretched his wings and tail out then flew back in through the window. The morning would come soon enough.

[21]

"Keep it moving!"

"Form up!"

"First Battalion!"

"Settle those horses down!"

The harbor was filled with men and women shouting orders, queues of workers and pack animals, and stacks and stacks of crates ready to be shipped. Wrathion looked around, careful to remain with his people in the crowd.

To blend in he'd changed the shade of his eyes to brown and had changed his clothing. He wore the simple work clothes of a blacksmith and followed behind Flintrock who'd traded in his roge leathers for a forge-singed apron and a box of tools. Wrathion held a pack of his own containing supplies for the camp they'd establish outside of the garrison. Left was hunched over, the magical disguise she wore making her look like a scarred ironworker. She carried her deconstructed gun in her pack along with some very real blacksmithing tools. There were other surprises in the pack, but she'd only grinned at him around her tusks and he'd allowed her her secrets.

"Ten Minute Call!"

Stormwind guards in well-kept armor formed ranks, their armor clanging in unison.Young officers ran from one side of the dock to the other, carrying missives and orders. There was a sizeable civilian population as well. Many, he'd been told, had been part of operations in the major events of the last decade, a generation of artisans and crafters who were willing to face terrible odds to keep the Alliance war machine running.

There was an energy in the air, a sense of purpose. The sound was monstrous but it wasn't confused. These were men and women on a mission. In some moments, Wrathion could almost believe he felt something in the air.

"Won't be long now," Right said, slipping into the space at his side. "King's going to address everyone. Neseema said she saw Proudmoore and Kalecgos arrive earlier."

"Everyone saw Kalecgos and Proudmoore arrive earlier," Wrathion muttered. "It's hard to miss when a dragon that large flies overhead. Are they crossing over?" Has Kalecgos noticed me in the crowd? Has Proudmoore seen the disguises?

"Don't think so. Neseema thinks they're here to help anchor the portal."

Wrathion had been intentionally not looking at the raised steps where the King of Stormwind and his son now stood with Kalecgos and Proudmoore. So close to the expected departure time it seemed wisest for him to keep his head down. He'd not wanted to risk eye contact however minimal the chance of discovery by the Prince might have been. A talented mage might be able to see through the veils on his Talons. Proudmoore certainly could be strong enough to see past a glamore. Kalecgos was without a doubt. And Proudmoore wasn't currently known for her love of the Horde. 

"Five Minutes Call!"

Wrathion dared look up. Wrynn was speaking with Admiral Taylor. Kalecgos and Proudmoore were deep in conversation with Anduin. The other prince looked well, Wrathion decided. He smiled easily, the cane he'd used so often in Pandaria absent either for good or for the pomp and circumstance of the day. The former Aspect of Magic looked far less somber than the last time he'd seen the other dragon. Proudmoore too looked less severe than she had when he'd last seen her at the trial. The blue dragon appeared to be recounting an amusing story, with Anduin laughing outright and Proudmoore hiding a laugh behind a hand. Both mages suddenly looked down into the crowd and Wrathion froze. He averted his eyes then very carefully looked absolutely elsewhere.

"Two Minutes!"

The activity and bustle around them grew as the King stepped forward to make his speech. 

"Today you embark on a dangerous journey. You have answered the call and pledged your service to the Alliance. For that, we thank you," Wrynn said, nodding at Genn Greymane who'd appeared on the raised area with a representative from the dwarves and the night elves. There might have been a gnome but Wrathion's eyes were tracking the two mages descending the steps to the area left clear at the center of the docks.

"We know there is a vast and terrible war machine on the other side of this portal. That force means to invade Azeroth but we will stop them! We will free those they have enslaved! We will dismantle their war machine!"

There was a heartfelt cheer from the gathered populace. The mood in the air shifted into one of anticipation. Wrathion's eyes left the mages for a moment to lift back to the King and the assembled dignitaries. Anduin's eyes were on his father. Varian was looking over the crowd with total and complete sincerity as he spoke. Wrathion couldn't help but feel slightly moved himself as the King praised the bravery of the Alliance forces gathered; not just the soldiers but the craftsmen and women walking into an uncertain future. It was truly a shame that Wrynn hadn't subjugated the Horde when he'd had the change.

Wrathion looked down at the pair of mages. The earlier casual levity replaced with professional focus and determination. Between them a portal began to form. On the other side Wrathion could see the unmistakable figures of Archmages Khadgar and Zaliya. The human mage grinned as the portal completed and the pair in Stormwind joined their power to the working. Zaliya, wearing her worgen form, grinned as well, her fangs pale against her dark pelt. They held open the gateway to a soft moonlit glade of soothing green and purple. Wrathion had a moment to view the area as the portal opened larger and the mages stepped to either side. Then people began to cross over.

"First Battalion!" The call went out and soldiers responded, marching quicktime across time and space to set foot on Draenor.

"First Crafters!" Men and women and carts and beasts loaded with supplies began to cross over next. As space opened up on the docks, the area was filled with more men and women in mostly neat queues carrying supplies, weapons and tools being handed out from the storehouses and piles.

Wrathion and his portion of the Talons were with the Second Crafters - those intended to join Admiral Taylor's garrison. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the Admiral leading his supply-laden horse, awaiting his turn to cross over. Two dozen heavily armed marines stood in neat ranks behind him.

Looking back at the portal he could see the four mages had settled into almost trancelike states. Their eyes appeared focused on things no one else could perceive, their hands moving in mirrored pairs, lips moving as they whispered incantations to keep the spell going. Blue and violet energy swirled from their hands into circles then into the shimmering edge of the portal then back in a loop. Wrathion tucked his head down and shuffled forward with the rest of his group.

He'd heard that the original passage from Outland to Azeroth had felt like swimming through the twisting nether. The stories from the orcs who'd made the crossing told of an endless moment between where one felt as if they were either swimming or flying or falling depending on the teller. The landing on the other side hadn't been easy. Normal Mage Portals were like stepping across a threshold. Wrathion wondered what this would be like as his group was called forward to cross over.

He spared a glance at the mages as he walked with the others, four abreast to make the most out of their short time with the portals open. Kalecgos appeared almost entirely unaffected by the amount of power the four mages wielded. On the other side, Proudmoore rolled her shoulders but continued to channel. She was beginning to look a little winded. Wrathion crossed the threshold.

There was a moment where he might have felt something, some sort of leaping or lifting, like he was being pushed across by an unseen wave and then his other foot touched down on Draenor for the first time.

On the other side of the portal, Zaliya was bearing her teeth in a snarl as she continued to channel. Khadgar's hair was damp at the temples, his forehead bright with sweat but they continued to maintain the portal. As groups came through, they were dispersed around the area in far less order than they'd started in. Wrathion and his crew drifted to the side as the jostling crowd began to form.

"Wood cutters!" called one voice. "Cooks!" called another. "First battalion!" and so on it went as order was brought to the chaos. 

On the rise the two mages finally dropped their casting, both sinking to their knees on the now well trampled grass. Healers reached out, holding flasks of water or something stronger and Wrathion turned away from the scene to get visuals on his own people.

"Time to make our exit," he stated.

"Agreed," Right said as she separated her packs. Others in the general area did the same.

Flintrock nodded then turned to his own tasks. He'd catch up with the rest later as would others in their group.

Wrathion split his own packs into what he'd brought and what wouldn't go amiss and what they'd leave for the new garrisons to help build. Around them engineers were erecting tents and woodcutting parties were being formed to take from the surrounding forest. Hunters were gathering to help supplement the food supplies. Mages were already being tasked with conjuring clean water and small snacks for the workers. gathering his followers up with silent looks, he and the rest of the Talons slipped into the night of Draenor.

[22]

Making camp was harder than expected. There were Arakkoa, Saberon, Ogres, Dranei and orcs to contend with. Draenor was also infested with small, sharp-toothed plant-like elementals. They burned well though. Wrathion tossed another of the dead floral vermin onto the campfire. After five days they'd managed to avoid the rapidly expanding Alliance Garrison by traveling away from Shadowmoon valley. They'd seen other inhabitants of Draenor but by Wrathion's command they'd acted to avoid anyone else. His Talons worked best when they were unseen.

The day after their arrival, Admiral Taylor's group had gone off on their own and during the shuffle they'd managed to obtain two gryphons and additional supplies. Left had shown up with a stolen two-headed beast she called a rylak, giving them three flying mounts. The hunting was plentiful and they'd apparently managed to avoid detection. They'd found a thick grove where the druids could form the canopy into something more solid and concealing and had set up camp, hiding their tents under the trees. His current compliment was about fifteen Black Talons, with several more hidden away in both Horde and Alliance garrisons, just over twenty in total. In time he would be able to bring more; both the Horde and Alliance seemed determined to create additional garrisons. They'd already been discussing how to set up a magical mailing network by the time Flintrock had been able to slip away.

The stars were wrong. The earth under his feet felt foreign and strange. Draenor was different from Azeroth in a way he couldn't quite quantify, but still felt.

"Is it strange to be here?" he asked, Left.

The orc woman arched an eyebrow and shrugged. She checked the pieces of her rifle before carefully fitting them together again. "It's strange," she agreed as she continued to maintain her rifle. "I was told stories of what our home looked like before the Legion came. Before the fel infected us. Made us this way," she said, holding out a pale green arm. "I have been through the lands where my ancestors once walked. It is shattered and adrift. Dead."

"But it was not always so. We're standing here."

"No," she agreed. "No. In stories the elders spoke of green hills and plains, where the water was sweet and clear and the spirits danced in our campfires. When I was a child it seemed like a dream. Durotar is red and dry." She narrowed her eyes as she inspected a component then snapped it into place on the rifle. "This world... Seems unreal. Dreams manifest. Chieftains who should be dead walk among the living. I can recognize places I have only ever had described to me in story. Here they are real."

"Do you wish to join the Horde encampment? Maybe see more?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "This strange dreamworld is not mine. I have seen the Outland. My place is with you, ensuring that Azeroth is not slain." She looked to the stars for a moment then back at her gun, busying herself with the final touches. "Maybe we save this place, too. And then next. Pay the deceivers for what they did to my world and my ancestors."

A soft call went out, heralding the arrival of Right on a gryphon. Another of his Talons rode the hovering rylak. Right landed by did not dismount.

"I have contact with the Mage. She will meet with us. She says she has a lot to report."

Wrathion nodded and shifted shape to his natural form. He perched on the seat in front of Right and addressed Left. "You're in charge until we return," he ordered. Left saluted and then he was in the air.

They flew for some time, crossing back towards Shadowmoon valley. They avoided the Garrison under construction and the reclaimed Draenei settlements and landed on the top of a hill someplace vaguely south of where they'd been. The ethereal blue dragon sat on the edge of the cliff. She turned her head when they landed. Wrathion flew over and perched on a nearby rock which conveniently allowed him to be nearly at eye level.

"We thought you might show up here," the dragon said. Her voice was large and oddly resonant, and not the growl which belonged to the Archmage.

Wrathion nearly fell off his perch. He was not speaking with Archmage Zaliya. "Tarecgosa?"

"In a manner of speaking, Black Prince." She smiled and inclined her head. "How do you find Draenor?"

"I was told I would speak with Zaliya."

The dragon drew in a long breath and sighed. "And so you shall, but I wished a word with you first and she was amenable."

"Speak, then."

She chuckled. "You are an odd little one, Wrathion."

"State your business or let me speak with Zaliya. I do not have time for games."

"No, you do not. None of us do." The blue shook her head. "I have seen no sign of Kairoz but his essence permeates this world; familiar amid the strange. Magic feels odd here. Have you noticed the earth?"

Wrathion glared. At length he fluttered his wings and nodded. "The same but not. Familiar and not. More and somehow less."

The blue dragon's mouth turned up into a smile. "Yes. Because it is more and also less. My brother is an odd dragon and has long studied the differences between the various powers-"

"If there is no point then I shall be going-"

"Kalecgos," she said, continuing to speak over him, "has told me that the Shamen believe that Azeroth has such volatile elements because Spirit, the fifth element, is fairly weak for reasons unclear to me. I suspect that is not the case here. The elements are more balanced. It is why everything feels the same and yet not. This is not our world, but the same rules govern Draenor."

Wrathion growled. "What is your point?"

"My point, black prince, is that this is a very good place for you to learn more about your own abilities. There is no corruption from the Old Gods here and you are the safest you have ever been from their threat. However this is not Azeroth. Some things will be more difficult. Others will be easier. You would be wise to keep this in mind as you learn. The differences, I think, will help teach you. Be aware that there are differences though."

"I will keep that under advisement. Zaliya, if you please?"

The dragon sighed and shook her head. "Wrathion, you should ask my brother what he knows about the Earthmother."

"How is that relevant? And in any case I doubt he'd really care to speak with me. I am not exactly welcome in most of Azeroth."

She bared her teeth in a dangerous smile. "You were indirectly responsible for the death of his mate, if however briefly. But she yet lives and I think you will find Kalecgos to be a more open-minded dragon than you expect."

Wrathion made a scoffing sound. "Zaliya?"

The dragon gazed at him for a long moment before her ethereal form vanished like mist. Zaliya rolled her shoulders and propped her staff against another rock.

"She's not wrong, you know."

"You can hear?"

"Of course. But you wanted to talk business, right?" she asked, baring her fangs.

He shifted into his humanoid shape so he could be certain she saw and interpreted his expression as a scowl. "What have you learned in your time here?"

"Lots." She gestured to the vista before them. "The Iron Horde has been at work for two years, but we are growing concerned that they are not the only ones who've been working. Among the Draenei survivors we liberated we have evidence of fel magic and the touch of the void. Necromancy. Demons. Nothing that means any good for us and certainly not for this Iron Horde."

"Gul'dan's plan failed. We know Garrosh was successful in that much."

"He was not killed. We know Ner'zul is still active." She nodded into the distance. "Shadowmoon Valley. His clan's home. I don't know the full extent of what's going on. We had limited power before and while we have more now, there isn't enough to chase down every detail. I don't know how bad it is here." She arched an eyebrow. "Seems you might have some resources to see what Gul'dan's up to. Are these just warlocks or is his shadow council still active?"

Wrathion bared his teeth. He could see the wisdom in some additional information. "We'll see."

"Just wanted to put that out there," she said, rising. "We're going to continue to look for Kairoz but it doesn't look promising." She set her staff on the ground and looked down her long muzzle at him. "Don't sabotage my people or you and I will have a problem. If you think we should or shouldn't do something to help Azeroth, you come to me and you bring evidence or your visions or gut instincts or whatever you have; but you come and speak with me. I think by this point you can recognize I'll listen. Understand that if you pull anything on me like you did with the trial, I will teleport you back to Azeroth so fast you'll wonder if this little vacation to Draenor was a dream."

"Bold words," he snapped.

"Aye. And you know I can back them up, Black Prince. We have the same goal, but I'm not sure this Iron Horde is the solution we wanted."

"It's the solution we have," Wrathion retorted. 

"Might be. Might not be." She growled pensively. "I will not stand for needless death when we're going to need everyone against the Legion. There's fel magic in the air. Might just be warlocks. Might be more. Keep an eye out and I'll do the same."

Wrathion growled as he let out a long breath but she was not incorrect on that part at least. And, he reminded himself, he still had someone in her camp. Two actually. "I can agree to that at least. Information sharing means greater protection for Azeroth."

"Aye. Good hunting to you then. As a heads up, I can tell you that both the Horde and Alliance are eyeing an island off the coast of the peninsula where they were building the portal as a base of operations. Small camps are there now but that's going to be an anchor back home."

He inclined his head. "Appreciated."

"By your leave?"

"We'll keep in touch."

She grinned. "That a promise or a threat, Prince Wrathion?" she turned and shimmered, becoming the ethereal blue dragon once more. Wrathion had the distinct impression that he now stood before two beings and both were evaluating him closely.

"Speak with Kalecgos," Tarecgosa told him. Then she turned and launched into the air, blue wings shimmering in the moonlight, and was gone in a flash.

Wrathion returned to Right and the gryphon and spent the rest of the flight back in pensive silence. When they landed he gathered his people together.

"I need to know where Gul'dan is, and what he is doing. I also need to know the status of the Iron Horde. So for the next three days we're going to be doing some reconnaissance."

"What do you want to know?" Grey asked.

"Everything."

[23]

Wrathion contemplated the chunk of iron in his talons. The locals called it "true iron" and used it and another mineral called "blackrock" in much of their smithing. It required a hot flame to work with well, he'd discovered. Conventional forges could eventually heat the ore enough to work with it, but dragonfire worked far better. Draenor didn't have dragonfire but they did have powerful elementals. The dragonfire needed wore him out though. He set the lump down on the pile he'd collected from the area. With so many of his people on reconnaissance he'd decided to stay close to the camp with the dwarf, Flintrock and Left.

He couldn't see the orc woman but he knew she was perched in one of the trees, watching for trouble. The dwarf was excavating his own mineral vein further down the hillside. He used a pick-axe while Wrathion could coax the stone to give up its bounty. Pulling the minerals he wanted from the earth wasn't something he'd have considered before the damnable dragon spirit had suggested he use this world as practice. It was tiring work, but it also felt strangely fulfilling, like stretching his wings after being stuck in his human form for too long.

Placing his talons on the wall of stone again, he closed his eyes and felt the earth. This world, like Azeroth, had been forged by ages of tectonic processes. It felt... colder than Azeroth did. He wondered if that was because he wasn't a native. No matter, he could feel the layers of the world like the layers of an onion. He'd tried just ripping up what he wanted first. That had been hard and the earth had fought him. Alternate methods had come from a surprising source.

_  
"Nay, lad," Flintrock said. "It's easter to ask the rock for what you want and if it doesn't give it up, slip between the strata like a knife between the ribs."_

_Wrathion looked at the rogue with an arched eyeridge. "While dwarves are known miners I did not assume you were thus talented, Master Flintrock. I was given to understand your talents lay more in the shadows."_

_Flintrock laughed and scratched his beard. 'Oh aye. They do. I've got a touch of the earth magic, y'see. They call it shamanism now. Helps me know where to place m'feet. Feel where the traps are. Pick the best jewels," he said with a grin. "My Mum was an archeologist. I got the touch from her, but I take after m'da; he was a right scoundrel he was. They met when he was trying to make off with something she'd dug up." The dwarf laughed then looked more serious. He looked around then back at Wrathion, leaning close. "She told me stories. There was a vault she found near Uldum. Carved art on the walls showed blocky stone dwarves working with giants, mechanical gnomes, huge stone humans and dragons. Reds carved from ruby and carnelian, Cobalt blues, jade greens, bronzes forged in metal and topaz. And blacks made from obsidian glass. Frills and curly horns, she said, so you knew they were the black flight. Was old."_

_"What happened?" Wrathion asked. "Which digsite?"_

_"Lost now," Flintrock said. "Cave in when I was still a wee one. But I remembered her story about how the black flight used to move mountains." He nodded at Wrathion. "Could tell meetin' you, you have the touch yer Highness. Movin rock's in our blood."_

__

Wrathion could feel the iron ore below the surface. He could also feel the layers of sedimentary rock over the bedrock, which felt solid but wasn't. He could pull the ore through, but it was easier to slip it between the layers, to use the hidden spaces between to make the job easier. It took longer that ripping ore from the ground, but moving so much earth he could do once and then need a nap. Slipping orc from the ground? he could do this all day. One day when he was as large and as powerful as deathwing he could rip the world apart as easily.

 _Or maybe set it right again._ came the thought. _Stormwind's park had felt like a ragged wound, didn't it?_

Wrathion shook his head and refocused on his task. The ore they were mining would be useful in building for themselves or for trade. The ore emerged from the rock wall with a pile of dust. He tugged it away in one large chunk. It wasn't too dissimilar from when he used the earth to hide items like he had at the trial in Pandaria, just larger. He set the stone on the pile in his basket, then stretched.

He looked around, found Left, then took off. He landed on a branch beside her perch and began to preen away the dust and rubble from his day's mining. "Anything to report?" he asked.

"Wings in the distance. Wild rylak."

"Hmm," Wrathion mused as he watched the sky. He wondered if rylaks were any good to eat. He was rather famished actually. Moving stone was hard work. "We should be seeing everyone back by nightfall. I am ready to return to camp and find something to eat. I would prefer to hunt something down rather than use our rations."

She grinned slyly. "Everyone would rather hunt something down than eat those rations. No wonder the Alliance is so dour."

They shared a laugh, collected Flintrock and the ore for the day and headed back to camp on foot. 

Wrathion had caught some small ground creature and was making headway through the haunch when Right returned with her report. She landed her gryphon in the clearing then brought it to the area designated as a corral.

"Your highness," she bowed. She went to the folding table in the center of camp and unrolled her updated map showing the Iron Horde strongholds and infrastructure.

"They've made a surprising amount in two years," Wrathion mused. He was quite pleased with the technological prowess of the Iron Horde. Even if they were the beneficiaries of nearly a decade of war in Azeroth it was impressive that the concepts had been adopted and put into large-scale production so quickly. "As these railroads?"

"Yes, your majesty. The areas in solid lines are completed. The dotted areas are where Grommash is having them clear cut to make room for more rails. The hub is here." She tapped a location in Gorgrond. "The foundry is impressively defended."

Right continued to give her report in clear and precise military precision. She'd not been able to get as far she she'd have liked but she had been able to locate Taylor's garrison location as well as major outposts for the Horde either by her own eyes or by rumor. She'd sent Grey on the other gryphon further west to complete their survey and he'd be another day in returning at least.

Wrathion nodded and took in the details. The Iron Horde was strong but the forces from Azeroth had managed to make deep inroads already here in Shadowmoon Valley as had the Horde in Frostfire. The ogres were also an interesting aspect to all of this. That Grommash had managed to bring in Highmaul forces on his side in addition to the allegiance of so many clans spoke well of the might of the Iron Horde.

The hunter they'd left on guard called out. "Rylak inbound!"

Wrathion and the others went to look to the sky, following where the lookout had been pointing. Left brought up her rifle to use the scope. "Not a wild Rylak. That's ours. Coming in hot."

The injured rylak was carrying two of his people, an orc and a troll, Orgar and Mak’ri. They’d been the team sent to look into the Shadow Council. "We'll need the druid. He was picking herbs. Should be close."

"I'll find him," the hunter said then sprinted off into the forest, his beast following behind.

The rylak crashed into the clearing, taking out several saplings and dislodging one of the riders. The beast screamed from both heads, wings thrashing as it limped around. The troll on the rylak's back, Mak'ri, cursed and tried to settle the beast. It bled from many wounds, spewing hot ichor over the clearing.

"Get free, we need to take it out," Wrathion ordered. The troll jumped away, landing in a heap to one side. The gnome priest he'd recruited ran to see what she could do to heal. The crack of a rifle rang in the clearing twice. The beast fell dead, a hole in each thread. Left and the other hunter lowered their smoking guns.

"Where's Orgar?" Wrathion asked, looking for the orc who'd been tossed in the crash.

"Here," the druid called. The huge Tauren, the aptly named Stonemountain, knelt beside a still body. The hunter who'd found the druid covered his mouth with a hand. His tiger was growling.

Orgar the orc had, like Garrosh, been a member of the Warsong clan and had come only lately to Azeroth. He had renounced his warchief in favor of Wrathion's anti-Legion stances. He'd been a valiant warrior and was now clearly dead. The gnome priest stretched out a determined hand over the body and called for the Light, but to no avail. The troll shaman who'd flown in with him, attempted to use his totems and had the same effect.

"What happened?" Wrathion asked in the silence that followed.

"Bad tings, Boss," Mak'ri said. He crouched before the body, shaking his head. The bones in his braided hair clacked together. "We poked around the Shadowmoon clan. Word be their chieftain gone to the void. De Mage and Alliance came in so we leave. Follow clues lookin' for Gul'dan. Find a warlock. Asked some questions. Orgar get some answers but the spirits be callin to me, mon. Bad juju. Very bad juju. We buried the warlock. Went looking anyway."

"It looks like you found something."

"Yeah mon. More warlocks. An' de biggest, baddest of dem all. The big one dey were using to power the portal."

"Gul'dan."

"Aye. He be tryin' to convert more orcs to his way of thinkin'. One of dem floating eyes saw us. We ran. Orgar took de hit for me. Fel magic, boss. Powerful fel magic. Ripped at his life. But he have a powerful heart and he fought. Got us out of dere. I tried all de healin I know, boss. De demon slashed us and de beast. He told me to heal de beast to get back here."

Wrathion put a hand on the troll's shoulder. "You did the right thing. You both did, Mak'ri."

"De be moving camp. Never in one place. Gul'dan's got enemies among the warchiefs but he's makin friends." Mak'ri ran a hand through his dreadlocks. "I have de location." he tapped his head. "No time for a map."

"That's good. You've done well. Did you see any orcs drinking demon's blood?"

"No mon. Just warlocks an' de demons."

"See to his injuries, Stonemountain, Sparklepuff."

"Come on," the gnome said, pulling the much larger troll away with a hand. "He died a warrior's death. He'd be proud of that. Let me see that gash." The troll went with her, a dazed expression on his face, the druid following in their wake.

"Damn," Right said, as she looked over the body. It had shriveled, the skin becoming translucent and sickly but the corpse was moist rather than dessicated. "What is his tradition?" she asked, looking over at Left.

"Burn it. Bury it. Doesn't matter to warsong so long as his spirit gets a warchant. He went in battle. He won't stick around as an angry shade."

"Make the arrangements. I'll bury him, when the time comes."

Left bowed and began speaking with the other orcs in the camp. Wrathion crouched beside Right as his other bodyguard attended to the other details. He reached out and touched the body.

Green fel flames burned in the eyes under a deep hood. Skulls on spikes and a gnarled hand reached out, ripping a hole in reality, summoning a demon. The creature was small, an imp, but he looked around with malicious intent. Skulls on spikes and, orc-shaped shadows bowing.

"Your Majesty!"

Wrathion gasped and fell back, scrambling away from the body.

"Your Majesty!"

He took a moment to return to reality. Was it a vision of the future? The present? A warning? A direct connection to Gul'dan? He wasn't certain as he had been with others. Perhaps his powers we weaker since he wasn't on Azeroth.

Wrathion scrubbed a hand over his face. "A vision. The warlock still wants to bring the Legion." he shook his head to rid himself of the impression of sulfurous stench. 

They had him sit on a camp stool and drink weak wine while the orcs made preparations for Orgar. His body was stripped of the useful things a living warrior would need. Mak'ri took his axe and hung it from his own belt.

The orcs began a low chant while the others observed their own traditions to wish the dead to final rest. The database he'd been gifted held vast knowledge but he didn't know about the traditions of the dragons. Little of the data the titan device had gifted to him held traditions of the younger races; the database had predated their existence. Only the barest information on the proto drakes was available. But he knew in his gut what black dragons would do. Or at least he knew what he would have liked. One with the earth, like the dwarves. Buried deep.

Wrathion knelt before the body in his true form. He set his talons on the ground and could feel the earth in his bones. Like burying contraband or pulling up ore, he sent Orgar to final rest. The earth swallowed him up almost gently. Wrathion sent him downward, slipping between the layers of sediment and rock until he was several meters below the surface. Returned to Draenor, but not the one he'd known.

Wrathion rose and resumed his human shape as the group broke up, returning to their duties and, probably, a drink or two in honor of the fallen warrior. Right and Left flanked him as he remained in the clearing.

"I have a choice to make. Yet it don't know if it is much of a choice," he mused aloud. "The Horde and Alliance are going to damage the Iron Horde. They've made allies who are equally as determined and they're already making progress." He looked at the unmarked grave and remembered the sick smell of fel magic. "But if Gul'dan manages to gain power... Everything I have done, I have done to protect Azeroth. The biggest threat Azeroth faces is the Burning Legion." He looked up at the strange stars overhead, just beginning to show their faces in the fading light.

"I can reach out to Garrosh and Grommash and assist the Iron Horde. I might be able to sway them to hunt Gul'dan. But won't listen. Garrosh won't. He's almost certainly killed Kairoz. Or I could hunt Gul'dan on my own. Try to stop him from rebuilding his shadow council. I'll almost certainly have little support from the Iron Horde and more of us will die. If I do not act, Gul'dan may yet give The Deceiver the army he wants. Thwarting the Legion is the true goal. If I can stop Gul'dan, there may yet be hope for the infinite Iron Hordes."

Wrathion sighed, head bowed. Why didn't anything work out like he planned? He didn't like this, but then he'd liked little about this situation ever since Varian Wrynn had allowed the Horde to exist after Garrosh's fall.

The Horde and Alliance were committed. He could not change that. They would recruit their own allies and hunt for Garrosh and prevent the Iron Horde from invading if they could. Wrathion could not stop them quickly by acting from the shadows and through proxies. 

But he could fight the Shadow Council for the soul of the Iron Horde. No one else was going to do it.

Wrathion opened his eyes and looked south in the general direction of where he knew Taylor's garrison was being set up. And possibly he could build himself to a place where he could sway the war against the Iron Horde as well.

"Get some food and some sleep," he told his bodyguards. "I have some thoughts to work out. Tomorrow I'll have a plan for us."


	4. 24 - 29

[24]

Fel flames. Twisted iron. Green, pulsing energy rising above a lush forest which withered and died as the fel tide crashed upon the trees and flowed outwards. Skulls on spikes and an army, a legion, of huge, orc-shaped shadows bowing as one.

Wrathion gasped as he awoke, wings and tail tangling in the blankets as he thrashed for a moment, caught in the last tattered cobwebs of dream. Nightmare. A dark shape loomed over him in the thin light of the single moon. He knew this shape however.

"I am fine," he reassured his bodyguard. The human woman nodded after a moment.

"As you say, sir. Your highness," she murmured, not convinced it seemed, but willing to accept what he said.

He laughed quietly. Her former life in the military had roared to the fore, enough others had noticed. Given her skillset in the shadows he suspected she was former SI:7 or had been trained as such at least to some extent, but old habits died hard. That she was falling back into those habits and allowing her former life to show was telling. 

"Will going to Taylor's garrison cause you undue hardship?"

"Ah, No si- Your majesty. No. If there is an issue I will be sure to inform you of any difficulties. That's where we're going? Taylor? Not the Archmage? Or the Rogue?"

He nodded as he climbed back into the nest of blankets. "We have supplies enough that will smooth over any ruffled feathers. Taylor strikes me as both adventurous and pragmatic. As long as we aren't causing trouble for him, I expect he will be content to get the benefits of my patronage. Does that track with what you know?"

Right sat back. "Yes. He has that reputation."

"Good. We'll move this camp and those of us who came from the Horde will remain outside. My plan is to use Taylor's garrison as a base of operations against the Shadow Council." He set a paw on the ground and lifted the dirt into a very rough approximation of Draenor. "His garrison is in a good spot for us to cover the continent. The Rogue and one of my deathknights are in Frostfire. Here in Shadowmoon we have the Mage, my other deathknight and the rogue. From Taylor's Garrison we can cover actions being taken in Nagrand and in the spires." He pointed out the areas as he spoke.

"Also means we can offload some of the security if we've got Taylor and his crew defending their base," she said.

"That was my thought." He eased the map back into smooth earth again. "Try to get some sleep," he said, then curled into the blanket.

"Of course your Highness."

Wrathion listened to the soft conversation of those standing watch and the crackle of the fire close by. He watched the alien stars wheel overhead. If he was to be successful, he was going to need more allies. Fortunately he'd learned a few things about enticing others to do as he asked in Pandaria.

* * *

The following day he gathered his people together and laid out his plan. 

"We're going to need mounts of some sort," Grey said. He scratched his chin as he examined the pile of goods and supplies. "Or perhaps some carts pulled by Talbuks or Elekks."

"The pathways to where we're going aren't terribly secure," the little gnome spoke up from where she was taking inventory of their medical supplies. "It would be more secure and faster to fly if we could."

"Flying mounts would be good for those of us not going into the garrison as well as for trade with the garrison and to further our goals," Wrathion said. "But we're down to just two."

"Well," Grey mused, "What if we were to liberate some from the locals?" He tapped heavy claws on the map. "Perhaps from Shadowmoon?"

"Possible. But possibly also a great risk," Wrathion mused.

"We could steal from the Draenei," one of the orc hunters suggested. "They're a bit unsteady as it is. Those giant fae-dragons seem tame enough. Me an' the other hunters shouldn't have any troubles with em'."

"They were just liberated, W'gul," Left said. "They'll be rebuilding and on guard. I think they'll not be easy. We'll have to deal with Warlocks, but Shadowmoon would be easier, my prince."

Wrathion nodded. "We were going to start causing trouble for the Shadow Council anyway. Might as well begin by liberating supplies from one of the places they're most likely to get support." he tapped the map in three locations. "Three camps, three places we can source mounts. We'll hit them all at once, Pack everything. We'll leave this camp as soon as we acquire transport. Once each team is done they'll come back here for supplies and we'll rendezvous elsewhere before moving on to Taylor's garrison. That means, of course, I'll be going with you as well. Everyone get packing. "

His bodyguards looked like they wanted to protest but they kept silent. He dismissed the rest of the Talons with a wave of his hand and studied the map. It was woefully incomplete but it was more than they'd had to go on when they'd arrived. 

Left approached, leaving Right to handle preparations. Wrathion smirked to himself; they'd been so reticent to work together in the beginning but they made a marvelous team and hardly needed to speak to one another.

"I'm going," he said before she could speak. "I need to see what we're dealing with first hand."

"My prince-"

"I have to," he said. "It feels right. I need to see what I can while we're liberating supplies. I was trained by some of the finest rogues on Azeroth and I can be small and unseen and fly away if I must."

Left sighed. "I will accompany you. Right will take point on gathering supplies with Grey. We're going to have the mages start a fire as a distraction."

"Excellent," Wrathion said, nodding. "Have them start it someplace unlikely to house magical materials."

Left grimaced but nodded. "As you wish, my prince."

"How soon will we be able to go?"

"As soon as we break camp and have everything ready to be loaded at a moment's notice. Call it four hours with everyone working."

"Good. We'll have time to get into position before night falls."

* * *

Wrathion had transformed his usual garb into a dark version of his usual attire. The fine white fabric had been turned into leather and heavy cloth. It was mottled in deepest blues and blacks and would resemble dappled moonlight and shadow. He'd equipped knives and had changed his shoes into something far less stylish but with a slimmer profile to leave less of a trace.

From the ridge he and Left could see the orc encampment. It was full dark but the settlement was still somewhat busy. The moon was only half full, thankfully not providing much light. Campfires made dancing shadows that were easier to hide in.

"Any idea on their number?" he asked.

"I count fifty," Left said. "Maybe more. Not many little ones or elderly."

"Or women I noticed. What are they doing? Gathering for a feast? They're all up and around the fires. Some sort of males tradition?"

"None I know of but I am no Shadowmoon. Looks like a leader will speak."

A large orc in a dark robe stepped forward. It was not Gul'dan but Wrathion suspected he might be a warlock. There was a spark of green fire and Wrathion could not stop the growl. The flames died down leaving a small capering imp. The other orcs spoke animatedly among one another and some jostled to get a better look. Not all were convinced. One of the very largest stepped forward and began to argue with the Warlock. Their words were lost in the distance but the gestures were easy to interpret. The warlock bowed his head and dismissed the demon who screamed loud enough Wrathion could hear.

"Take note of where that one goes," Wrathion ordered.

"We're here for supplies, my prince."

"And to defeat the Legion. If we get the opportunity we should take it. Come on, the others should be in place soon." Wrathion rose from the bushes and began to move forward and down the hill on silent feet.

The mage either picked her target well or got lucky because one of the huts abruptly exploded into the air, sending debris and flames upwards and outwards in all directions. The relative peace of the camp was shattered with a roar of flames.

Wrathion ran ahead moving from shadow to shadow, shifting form as he needed to accommodate his size. He was soon outpacing Left who'd made her way towards the tethered rylaks. Wrathion saw the warlock rush from his hut into the confusion. Grinning, Wrathion changed his course to the other side of the warlock's hide-walled hut. Slashing an entrance with two quick slashes he peered into the tent before entering himself.

It smelled of old, rotten blood and the acrid and sulfur smell of fel magic. Holding the back of one hand over his nose he looked around for anything interesting. There was a scroll and a tome on a low table. And a demon inside a summoning circle. The imp shrieked and threw fel flames but they died ineffectively around his prison.

Wrathion stashed the tome and the scroll just as a shadow fell across the entrance. Ducking to the side he shifted shape and leapt up into the rafters of the hut.

The warlock ran in, looking around, sickly green-purple flames captured in the twisted branch of a staff he held. The imp shrieked and pointed. Ah. too bad it was smart enough to track where he'd gone. No matter.

Wrathion dove from his perch, shifting shape as he did so. He landed on the warlock before the orc could cast a spell. They grappled and Wrathion's knives flashed in the low light of the tent, severing the warlock's big artery and opening his throat. Wrathion pointed the orc away and let his life's blood spray the back of the tent while the imp screamed. The orc died and wrathion dumped him to the ground. He didn't know if this particular orc was with the Shadow Council, but the odds were good and any orc on Draenor summoning fel creatures was suspect. There was shouting outside coming closer. Time to make his escape.

Wrathion dove for his exit while the imp screamed profanities in several languages Wrathion knew and a few he didn't. Another orc entered the tent on Wrathion's heels and a noxious bolt of fel magic landed near his head as he ducked out side.

Wrathion sprinted for the rylaks, eyes already to the skies. Two had escaped already, but which ones? Had he lost anyone?

Left whistled sharply as he ran into the corral at a dead run. She threw him the reins of another of the rylaks and he hauled himself onto the beast's back, sinking hands half-transformed into talons into the loosely secured saddle. Kicking the beast into motion he rode it out of the area and spurred it to take off. Left followed a wingbeat behind him and behind her was another of his talons, their stolen rylak holding one of the Tauren.

The beast struggled under the weight of the huge warrior. Arrows and fel-bolts sailed into the air, following them skyward. Wrathion turned and roared at the beast. 

"MOVE!"

He could see the tauren's teeth in the thin moonlight as he kicked at the beast to prod it. The beast appeared to beat its wings faster, bearing the tauren aloft and out of the range of the fire below. They attained a relatively safe cruising altitude and began their pre-planned evasion.

"Will it be able to carry you?" he called over to the Tauren.

"Enough to get away but not for much longer than that. I took the biggest and killed the rest," he called back.

"We need to stop then. We three will stay together. The others will meet up at the rendezvous point," Wrathion decided.

The two gnomes who'd been on his team shot into the night on his command, making for the rendezvous. Wrathion looked over his shoulder. The fires in the settlement were still visible but shrinking as they put distance between themselves and the mayhem they'd caused.

Five mounts, one dead warlock and materials of potentially interesting quality. "Not bad for a night out," he commented to Left.

The look she shot him was so infuriated he nearly fell off his mount in surprise. She remained silent however. Wrathion frowned. Then he sniffed and crossed his arms, rolling his eye skyward. Right would be more reasonable, he was sure.

* * *

[25]

"You did WHAT?"

Right was, unfortunately, not more reasonable. She might, in fact, have been less reasonable than her orc counterpart.

"It was a calculated risk-"

Right laughed, cutting him off. 

He glared. "A calculated risk which has borne fruit. These documents-"

"Were stolen and the warlock in possession of them was killed in the raid. They may already be out of date and unuseable."

"But even then we can learn something from going where they have been. We also know they are planning something against some place called Auchindouin. And this grimoire is out of Shadow Council hands," he said, tapping his fingers on the book he'd taken from the tent. "This isn't just a spellbook. Tomes like these are also the personal journals and thoughts of the magic user who penned it."

"You're not going to read it are you?" Right asked, eyes wide and horrified.

"Well. Yes."

"No! What if," she leaned in close, hissing, "what if it turns you to their side?"

"Never!" he growled.

"Your Majesty, your father didn't expect the Old Gods to turn him. Magic like this is insidious. It gets into your mind and soul and before you know it they have you and you're up at night sacrificing your friends and neighbors-" She broke off, shaking her head. "At least get another magic user who is a bit more replaceable to look at it first. Or The Mage in Shadowmoon. Or even Khadgar wherever he is these days."

"Are you saying I cannot handle reading a book?"

"I am saying this is a dangerous tool of someone dealing with the Burning Legion and no one in camp can assure you it won't possess you. Or one of us. Or even by reading it won't summon an infernal in the middle of camp!"

"I think we should dip it in rancid oil, set that thing on fire and ask one of the shamen to scatter the ashes," Left chimed in. "Maybe let one of the Hunters have their pet defile it first, then set it all on fire."

"Thank you for that very specific and pungent suggestion," Wrathion growled.

"Zaliya said talk to Kalecgos. He's the most powerful mage in the world isn't he? Being former aspect an' all," Right said.

"Oh, like he'd talk to me. And it isn't like we have a mail system."

"Not here, but when you get to Taylor's Garrison you probably will soon if not immediately," Left commented.

"The Mage, or rather the dragon that lives in her head, said Kalecgos might be willing to chat. If you're looking to attack warlocks making deals with the Legion he might be very amenable."

"Or perhaps you should consult with your friend the Prince of Stormwind. He is a priest in training is he not?"

"The Light would be good at turning something evil like that to ashes," Right agreed, nodding. "Or at least giving you some protection."

Wrathion growls deep in his chest and waves them both away. They exchange a look, bow in unison and return to the rest of the camp. They're a day out from Taylor's garrison, well away from the orcs they plundered. They've even traded for additional supplies from the local Dranei, so eager to have anything which might help them against the Iron Horde, they're not exactly hard to take advantage of.

From the three assaults they lost one Talon; a dwarf warrior who held off the Shadowmoon orcs while her companions escaped. She'd be hauled up by the priest as they escaped but had died in transit. He'd sent her body to rest like the orc's. Dwarves were people of stone and Earth. Even if this wasn't Azeroth, Flintrock has assured him she would be well pleased with her alien tomb. One of the others, a hunter, had a severely wounded animal of some sort and currently the human was babying his tiger and working with the druids to save the beast. The hunter himself wasn't in very good shape with several burns and lacerations, but Wrathion was informed that he'd live.

Despite the losses, it had been a worthwhile trip. They'd gained food and some raw materials; more of the blackrock and true iron, hides and some grains. They'd also managed to acquire mounts for nearly everyone in his group. Five had already been traded or sold for more enticing supplies.

He'd had Grey scout the Taylor's Garrison. They were in the midst of building with the Barracks and Armory the buildings furthest along. Wrathion had therefore directed the trades focus on building materials and supplies. 

The raids had been worth the risk. He now knew the names of some of the Shadow Council's surviving leaders and had some idea of where they might be making strongholds. One such place was in Talador and another in the Spires. Both would be convenient to their new location. The little holdout camp here in a hidden hanging valley would give him a place to retreat to just in case his plans didn't go as he expected. And here under Left's command the Horde members would be effective combatants in the war he intended to wage.

Wrathion looked at the book again. It didn't feel terribly evil; just the lightest touch of Fel magic that made him feel queasy if he held it for too long. But then his father hadn't recognized the signs of corruption from the Old Ones and that had been his downfall. Wrathion let out a breath and found some parchment and one of those dreadfully useful gnomish pens that carried the ink inside the fake quill. He filled it up and wrote.

To: Prince Anduin Wrynn  
From: Prince Wrathion

 

He paused over the letter, scowling. Was he asking for assistance? Opening lines of communication? Explaining, again, why he had done what he'd done? And there was every chance that Anduin wouldn't open the letter. He might just throw it on the nearest fire and watch it burn. The thought made him feel slightly ill. Or perhaps it was the book. Wrathion set the unfinished letter aside and pulled out another piece of parchment. He glared at the book for a moment then began to write.

To: Kalecgos, the Spellweaver  
From: Wrathion, Prince of the Black Flight

He paused again. Why was this so devilishly hard? Should he even address his part in the events at the Temple? Black dragons had nearly wiped out the blue flight. They'd never really recovered their numbers and Wrathion knew there were still a few blue dragons who had lived through that war. Was Kalecgos that old? Wrathion thought not but he wasn't sure. He glanced at the book and it's sick secrets which might allow him to tear apart the Shadow Council...or they might tear him apart too. And he was much too valuable for that!

_Lord Kalecgos,  
I ask that you read this letter and consider my words rather than dismissing them outright. Your sister, the spirit of the dragon Tarecgosa, indicated I should make contact with you. It is a her behest I am sending this letter._

_Let me first state that I find what Kairoz did at the temple to be regrettable. It was not my intent for anyone to lose their life there and I even took pains to spare the life of Chronormu and the rather ineffective guards posted to Garrosh's cell. I was relieved to hear that the Celestials intervened as they did. Understand that everything I have done, I have done for the good of Azeroth and to uphold my flight's charge. I believe we must be united under one banner to face the coming Legion. And they are coming. Prince Anduin believes me._

Wrathion paused. Did Anduin believe him still? He huffed out a breath. Well. He had believed him before. That would suffice for now and perhaps a discussion with Kalecgos would help bring Anduin to understanding.

_Gul'dan and his organization, the Shadow Council, are active on the Alternate Draenor. It is my intent to see them dead and to disrupt their corruption. To that end, I have begun my own operations against them. The first such successful foray has liberated a grimoire from one of the warlocks. Such books are personal journals as much as they contain spells. I would use the knowledge of this warlock to gain advantage over the enemy of all Azeroth, the Legion. However, there is concern that such a spellbook might contain traps or other dangers._

_As you have no doubt guessed this is why I have reached out to you, Spellweaver. You are the most powerful of our remaining mages and I know that in ages past, the Blues were able to nullify and contain dangerous artifacts, including those of demonic origin._

_While I think it is clear we do not agree on what needs to happen to secure Azeroth's future, I hope you will see that we do indeed fight for the same cause. I will enclose what observations I have made about this tome and the sigils on the cover. When I handle it for too long I feel ill so I have left it well alone since it was acquired._

_No need to trouble Archmage Proudmoore or anyone else with this matter. I imagine the Alliance will be aware of my location soon enough and my request for assistance is genuine and free of ill-intent._

_Sincerely,  
Wrathion, Prince of the Black Flight_

_ps: Tarecgosa said to ask you what you know about the Earthmother. Which seems somewhat suspect as it's a shamanistic rather than Arcane topic, but there you are. I have asked._

 

His letter finished, Wrathion called heat and flame to his hand and waved it over the parchment, instantly drying the ink. He smirked. How many letters had he lost before he'd managed to find just the right amount of heat? He sealed the missive with a dab of wax, shifting long enough to place his paw into the cooling seal and mark it.

That just left the other letter.

Wrathion stared at the paper. It was not normal for him to be at a loss for words and yet here he was. And it was hard because Anduin had somehow become a friend. Or at least Wrathion had come to think of him in that way. He picked up the letter and set it on fire, tossing it into the campfire's stone circle. He started a new letter.

_"Anduin,_

_I imagine you're quite angry with me. I can understand why. I did not intend for anyone to be seriously harmed in that confrontation. I am pleased to hear the Celestials stepped in._

_Everything I have done, I have done to uphold my charge and to protect Azeroth. I still believe that we will only be safe if we are united under a single, strong banner Garrosh was a means to that end- I would not have allowed him to live beyond his-_

Wrathion stopped. Talking about killing garrosh wouldn't earn him any goodwill with the Prince. He set fire to the letter and re-wrote the beginning.

_"Everything I have done, I have done to uphold my charge and to protect Azeroth. I still believe that we will only be safe if we are united under a single, strong banner. There cannot be an question as to who leads - someone must conquer._

_Agents of the Legion are active in Draenor. That is where I am as you shall soon be informed. In any case, I have made it my goal to undo their works and prevent them from taking the Iron Horde as was done in our timeline._

_I have taken possession of the grimoire of one of the warlocks in league with the Legion. As I am certain you would not wish for innocents to be harmed, I would appreciate any assistance you might provide. Is there some priestly technique or blessing which might be done so that I can find out all the dirty secrets and not summon an infernal on anyone's head?_

_I look forward to your response._

_Wrathion."_

There. That would likely get a response. He sealed the letter as he'd sealed the one for Kalecgos and tucked them both into his tunic. That done he went to find his bodyguards.

They were coordinating over a map of the area, filling in details from smaller pieces of parchment provided by the scouts. They stood and saluted as he approached. Formal. They were still angry. Well he was the one in charge and what he said was what happened. However he had appointed them in charge of his personal protection and they were very good at their jobs. As a leader, it would be wise of him to let them do what they had pledged to do, even if it was inconvenient for him.

"I have decided to reach out to both the Spellweaver and the Prince of Stormwind. There is a mail connection in the Garrison according to our scouts. If they do not give an answer I will seek out the Mage. Are you both satisfied by these precautions?"

"Yes your majesty," they answered in near unison.

"Good. Right, seal the book in a travel case. Left, I expect I shall be moving out shortly with Right and the others."

"I'm going too."

"Oh you are?"

"Yes. You're always seen with both of us. It would be suspicious if I were absent."

Wrathion opened his mouth to retort but they were correct. He frowned at her. "You do realize we will be walking into an Alliance garrison."

"Yes, but I will be walking in as your agent and everyone knows it. Given recent Alliance attitudes I'll be fine. If we need to expedite an exit I should be at your side, my prince."

"Very well," he said. Truthfully he hadn't been looking forward to being without one of his most trusted agents. "Do we have those little devices?"

"The gnome came through. It has some sort of ridiculous acronym for a name but they have the range to reach camp from the Garrison," Right said. "We just can't let them get wet and we'll need to feed them power crystals once a week or they lose the ability to work."

"Good. Good. And our gift is ready for delivery?"

"Yes," Left said, nodding.

"Good! Then we have one last thing to do. Surrender."

* * *

Sir Edward wasn't a stupid Knight. Wrathion thought he was every inch the perfect example of what every knight aspired to be. Faithful. Loyal. True. Predictable.

Admiral Taylor's garrison was coming along but it was a far cry from being finished. It had rained in the night and then the heat of day had hit, turning the whole area into a muggy mess. What this place needed was a proper in. And some cooling enchantments. But first thing first.

Wrathion smiled at the workers who stopped to look at their little procession as it rode in through the main gates. Sir Edward's people had taken the reins of his mount but then he'd been planning on donating it to the cause anyway. He was on foot, which was less than dignified, but he didn't let it show. He held his head up high and strolled along behind the alliance warcharger. He was reasonably sure Right still had some of her daggers and Left had some small arms on her person. Their larger more obvious weapons had been taken and when their supplies arrived in the next day there would be more weapons for them.

Sir Edward dismounted and threw the reins to a groom, then he and the half dozen other Alliance soldiers escorted Wrathion inside the town hall. It felt rather like an honor guard, he mused as they went inside. There troops that had escorted him inside took up ready positions, awaiting further orders. Admiral Taylor was seated behind a desk hewn from thick wooden planks, writing. An woman in plate stood beside him. She frowned as everyone trooped inside and placed a wary hand on the pommel of her sword.

"Sir Edward I see your re- returned," he stuttered as he looked up and realized Edward was not alone. "What's this?"

"Admiral, this is Wrathion, and-"

"Prince Wrathion," Wrathion interrupted smoothly. "And I am here seeking asylum, Admiral Taylor." He inclined his head deferentially.

"Asylum?"

"Yes I have apparently offended some rather powerful Ogres and they'd like to see what my insides look like. Given you are in command of the strongest bastion of sanity in this insane world, I have come to you and humbly ask for asylum from those who would do me harm." Wrathion gave the admiral a courtly bow.

Taylor frowned, bushy brows drawing together. He didn't look like he was going to say no, though.

"He's a fugitive from the Alliance!" Edwards barked out. He was turning an interesting shade of red.

As he said that, the lady in plate beside taylor gestured and instantly the honor guard had fanned out, guns drawn. Wrathion felt his bodyguard tense and he subtly waved them down.

"I have had some misunderstandings with the Alliance and Horde alike as of late," Wrathion said, keeping his voice calm and even. He'd learned that from Fahrad and Anduin. Even Proudmoore, prior to Theramore, had used the same calm voice as if one were talking down an unsteady mount. Talking mounts down had actually been good practice; most gryphons were somewhat leery of something that smelled like a dragon.

"I can assure you I mean you no harm and I simply wish to keep free from the ogres I have somehow angered. Your reputation as a good and noble man precedes you, Admiral. I knew that I and my compatriots would find peace behind your walls. If you have further concerns, please, let me have the opportunity to show you through my actions that I am a friend and this is all a great misunderstanding." He could feel the tension in the room shift and change like a tide, calming one moment, then fighting towards fury the next. Behind him, Left and Right were coiled springs, waiting to act. He needed them to be calm as well. He could hardly take out Gul'dan and the Shadow Council and every other Legion collaborator if his head was several lengths from his body, after all.

Taylor looked around the room then back at Wrathion. He blew out a huff of air and waved the guns down. "You're welcome as our 'guest' so long as you abide by house-arrest and a full-time guard. No funny business." He pointed at Wrathion. "You and your minions will abide peaceably and I'll see you're treated with proper decency. Any funny business and it's the brig for you. Or when we build one," he added the last under his breath but Wrathion's hearing was quite good and he heard it easily.

Wrathion bows low again then straightened and smiled. "Thank you Admiral. I look forward to being your guest."

The human rolled his eyes and gestured to Sir Edward. "See to a rotation of guards around him and his... companions."

Sir Edward gritted his teeth but nodded. "I'll see it done."

"Get him a tent for now," Taylor said, waving everyone off in clear dismissal.

Wrathion smiled as he strode outside. It was a pleasant day if a bit muggy.

"Sir Edward, you wouldn't happen to have some mail access out here would you?" Wrathion asked the knight. "There are some people who will be most overjoyed to find I haven't been killed by Ogres."

"No." Sir Edward said. "You are under house arrest."

"Ah," Wrathion said. "Then I suppose they shall just have to wonder a bit longer. Would you mind terribly if we took a tour?"

The knight glared at Wrathion.

"That would be a no then? I am somewhat handy when it comes to matters of earth moving. I could shore up some sagging palisades if you should desire."

"Our palisades are fine and not sagging."

Wrathion looked over at said sagging palisade. It wasn't terribly saggy but it was clear the rain had softened the earth unexpectedly and the timber wall had a noticeable warping."If you are quite certain?"

The knight seemed to chew on several comments before he gestured curtly. "Fine, dragon. This way."

They reached the damaged part of the wall and wrathion crouched down. He dismissed the feeling of the eyes on him as unimportant and reached into the earth. It was wet and soft and probably would have been wonderful orchard soil. He found large stones and began to shift them upwards, carefully displacing earth and drawing up clay from deeper down. The land rippled under his hands and the wall of timber stakes began to straighten as he shored it up with clay and stone, filling in the gaps between the wooden stakes and holding them in place more firmly. The ground around the wall rose slightly as he stabilized it but the addition above the surface was negligible. Wrathion let out a long breath and rose, rolling his shoulders. As always working with earth was soul satisfying and relaxing. The churned earth smell filled the area and he took a deep breath in then let it out.

There was a smattering of applause which was quickly cut off. Wrathion smirked to himself then tried to school his features before he turned to the knight. "That should do, I think, Sir Edward."

Sir Edward eyed him, eyed the wall, grunted and gestured. "Come on. Let's get you settled with a tent."

Wrathion smiled and strolled after the knight.

The men and women of the Garrison were living out of drafty tents which wouldn't do at all for his purposes. He was rather done with sleeping in tents and under alien stars and too few moons. Besides, providing shelter would make the others in the garrison far more amenable to any requests he might make. His tent was small, barely large enough for two and he was ensconced inside with both of his bodyguard. Once the flap had been closed, he shifted into his true shape and perched beside Left on the single small camp cot.

"Well, that went well," he mused. His bodyguards shared a look and didn't appear to entirely agree. They'd see though. "This will not do at all," he said, looking around. "We shall have to donate supplies to get the Admiral a proper inn."

"Will the mail be an issue?" Right asked. It was almost certain they were being listened to.

"No. I imagine I will just have to be a good citizen until I have that privilege restored," he said aloud for the sake of those listening in. He flapped his wings and hefted the two letters in his forepaws. Both Right and Left nodded in understanding.

That night it was almost absurdly easy for him to slip into the darkness, find the closest mail location and add his letters to the system. He took the long way back, listening to the grievances and complains of the people and considering how he might address those and gain some advantage in this location. He returned before his bodyguards were ready to come after him and settled down in his dragon form. He was inside. Tomorrow the real work would begin.

* * *

[26]

There were no letters for Wrathion the following day. Or at least, he had to concede, no letters had been given to him. He doubted anyone would open correspondence from their Prince, so at the least he was fairly certain Anduin hadn't sent a reply.

He was under house arrest but he decided that meant he had the freedom to wander about the Garrison until such a time as they'd had a proper inn built. It also gave him more opportunity to get to establish his new base of operations and engage with his new security forces.

"It is remarkably muggy here, isn't it," he commented to the two guards who had been assigned to watch him. They did not reply but the one on the left looked like he'd almost wanted to answer. "Oh come now," he said, smiling. "You and the others are going to be following me around, at least until Admiral Taylor decides I am a dragon of my word. We don't need to make this unpleasant." The woman arched an eyebrow under her helm and remained silent. Her companion gave her a look then shrugged his shoulders at him.

"Well I did want to ease into conversation with the weather but how about we skip right to more formal introductions," he said. He turned and sketched a small bow. "I am Wrathion, Prince of the Black Dragonflight. Your names and titles so I might properly address you?"

The two looked at one another. The man said. "Lieutenant Corin Halberk."

The woman sighed and said, "Lieutenant Adele Westin."

"Well met lieutenants," Wrathion said. He resumed their stroll around the perimeter of the encampment where he'd been given leave to reinforce the palisades - under the watchful eyes of his guards of course. Right and Left had been left in the shade of his tent under another set of guards. Most amusing to him was how his guards couldn't seem to agree who was the most dangerous in the group. It was very revealing of all sorts of information.

"What do you think of Draenor?" 

"What do you care?" Westin asked, suspicion oozing from every word.

Wrathion clasped his hands behind his back and fell into step between the two guards rather than being a step ahead. "Well if I'd had professionals such as yourself assisting me and assessing the situation then perhaps I wouldn't have fallen afoul of those ogres," he said, shaking his head sadly. "I'm given to understand it's quiet strange for those who've seen Outland. This area for example is rather twisted and barren?" Honestly he wasn't that familiar with Outland's geography but this was a fine opportunity for either of his guards to engage in conversation.

Westin grunted. "Actually this place doesn't exist there," she said.

"It doesn't? I understand large sections of the northwest peninsula disappeared, there was landloss down here as well?"

She eyed him. Her pause was long enough he didn't think she was going to answer but then she did. "Aye," she said. "There is, or at least in Outland, there is a place bit north of here called Auchindoun. Draenei holy place. Part tomb part temple or something. In Outland everything south of it was destroyed. The land falls off into the Twisting Nether." Wrathion revised Westin's age upwards a bit. Interesting she was just a Lieutenant. Late to serve or had she been demoted?

"All of it?" her partner asked, aghast and Wrathion revised his age down a few years.

"Every blighted hectare," she said.

"The Legion destroys wherever it goes," Wrathion muttered, shaking his head and taking the lead again. He crouched by another sagging wall and shored it up. The rest of the area wasn't so bad but this one side wasn't the best for building palisade walls.

"Aye, that's for damned sure," Westin agreed with Wrathion. "The whole place was dust, ash and vultures. East and north of where I was was nothing but demons and more desolation. You saw that big temple the Draenei have in Eastern Shadowmoon, Halberk?"

"On the map, yeah."

"In Outland they call that the Black Temple. Full of demons and cultists and dark magic that would make your insides water." She sneered.

"You fought them?"

Westin shut up then and Wrathion knew he'd pushed too quickly. But today was just one day and he had many more. Already he'd learned Lieutenant Westin was someone who understood the dangers facing Azeroth. He returned to his tent and his bodyguards who'd been at their own conversation with the people set to guard them. Wrathion smiled and nodded to them as he sat for a simple lunch.

By afternoon he had Halberk on his payroll as the younger guard was easily convinced to keep an eye out on the Admiral for his own safety - and the young gentleman had a paramour he wished to impress on his return. Westin he'd not approached as she was the sort whose loyalty wasn't bought but earned and he might earn hers. He had Right making casual conversation with her, one like-minded individual to another. 

Wrathion had also managed to strike up a good conversation with the garrison architect, Bryan Finn. When the Architect had been informed that it was Wrathion who'd shored up the palisade wall, the architect's attitude had flipped from wary to excitement and curiosity. For him, Wrathion began to smooth out and pack down land to be solid foundations, saving the work crew days of labor in a matter of hours.

"Now that is some impressive work, Prince Wrathion," Finn said as he watched the earth shift and sink into a neatly excavated hole. "We thought we'd have to forego a basement for the Inn, but now we'll have a proper root cellar. Alice will be pleased. I didn't know dragons could do this."

"This is precisely what my flight used to do when they were as sane as I am, Master Finn," Wrathion said as he lowered the floor a bit more. It was becoming difficult and while he wished to win Finn to his side, he didn't want to pass out. "I'll get the other half tomorrow if you don't mind."

"Oh not at all, your highness, not at all. It'll be some time before we get enough timber in anyway. I admit, I'm a bit surprised you're helping," he said.

"As I told the Admiral, I truly have the best of intentions. What better way to prove myself than to show I am willing to do some hard work to help?"

Finn ran a hand through his hair. "I suppose that makes sense. What did you do to those Ogres if you don't mind my asking?"

"Well, I could say it was something utterly impressive like saving an entire camp full of kidnapped draenei children who were about the be ritually sacrificed," Wrathion said dryly. Finn laughed at the joke. "But the truth is I didn't like what one of their warlocks was doing, especially so close to my Alliance allies. I warned him off but he didn't agree. There was an altercation. The warlock died. I also have burned down his entire hut and all his spellbooks and summoning materials and his body and the demon he'd summoned to eat me."

It wasn't the truth but it was close. Wrathion had killed a warlock and burned the hut down around the body, but it had been an Orc. No need to claim victory in Shadowmoon when he needed the shadows to work with. Finn made an impressed noise, both eyebrows racing to his hairline.

"I see." The eyebrows lowered. "Can't say I hold much with the darker arts. There are some magics that just aren't worth the risk of using if you ask me." He sighed, "but I'm just an architect. Some of the Magi aren't so bad. They understand numbers. Others..." he trailed off. As he spoke Wrathion noticed his eyes kept drifting to a specific part of the garrison.

"I certainly don't hold with them either," Wrathion said. "My flight would not be down to just me and the entirety of the Cataclysm would have been avoided if darker things hadn't corrupted the black flight." Wrathion clasped his hands behind his back. "I can't help but notice something has caught your attention to the north of us." He dropped his voice. "Something concerns you?"

"Oh, no. Just. Nothing, really. Thank you for your assistance. I hope I can count on it again, Your majesty?"

Wrathion inclined his head. "Of course. Have a pleasant evening, Master Finn." He casually turned away to see what Finn had been eyeing. The tents in the area were for the craftspeople as well as some of the personal quarters. The soldiers were all moving into the barracks as the last finishing touches were added and striking their tents. Wrathion had actually managed to arrange for a larger, newly vacated tent. But among those left were the herbalist and one of the mages. The herbalist was a cheerful dwarf woman from the Wildhammer clan he'd only seen from afar. The mage he hadn't seen yet since he'd been ensconced in his tent the entire time. Wrathion knew the man's name was Ephial. Interesting. Dark magic under the cheerful exterior of the dwarf, or was the reclusive mage the one that Finn had been wary of.

Wrathion turned and strolled back into camp. It would be dinner time soon and that was always an excellent time to gather information. Two more days and his people would arrive with his gift for the garrison and merge with the rest of the population. And, if things had gone particularly well, tonight he'd have an update on what his people were doing with regards to the missives he'd taken in the raid.

* * *

[27]

"I imagine that Mistress Finn will be well pleased once we have the materials for a proper inn. Not to say that she doesn't do a marvelous job with hospitality given what she has to work with," he said, smiling in the general direction of the soon to be innkeeper.

Dinner in the Garrison was communal with everyone eating at long tables or wherever they could find a seat. Now that he'd managed to convince his guards that "house arrest" included the garrison grounds itself, Wrathion had taken his entourage and claimed one of the larger tables. His guards hadn't taken much convincing to sit and eat as he and his people did. Taylor had breezed through with some of his more senior staffers but he'd not stopped Wrathion, giving him only a warning look that clearly said "Behave."

The Architect was eager to speak about his job and his work and the plans he had for the eventual inn his wife was set to run, but he studiously avoided speaking about what had set him ill at ease earlier. Master Finn's acceptance worked wonders with the other craftspeople in the garrison, but the guards remained more wary. Wrathion could tell they were somewhat put off kilter by his friendly charm. He could work with that. Surprisingly, it was Halberk who gave him information. Westen was present but she didn't silence the other guard.

"That one's a bit odd. Even for a magic user," he muttered as Ephial crossed camp, a map held in magic before him, eating stew as he walked.

"Oh?" Wrathion prompted. "Seems like a he's just a fairly bookish mage."

The others around the table cast furtive glances at one another and Ephial. Master Finn shifted in his seat and made an excuse about the time before he retreated. Wrathion watched him go.

"He's obsessed with ley lines," Halberk said as he pushed stew around with a hunk of bread. "Absolutely mad for them. He spent the entire time travelling here going on and on and on about it. Taking readings and using magical... things. Getting excited. Getting depressed. Getting angry then happy again." He nodded in Finn's direction. "Ephial cornered Finn there for a few hours. Going on and on about how we should lay out the garrison to take on the maximum potential for power structures."

"So he's an obsessive, bookish mage?" Wrathion prompted.

"So far he hasn't stepped out of line. Doesn't like people getting close to his tents. He's got sound warding up," Westin added. The other guards, Left, Right and Wrathion looked over at her but the older soldier had said all she was going to say on the matter.

"I see. Well I shall endeavor to give the man some space then," Wrathion said. 

He steered the conversation more towards the gathering of resources and who else in the area. The lumberjacks had been spotting huge insects but hadn't run into any of them just yet. The guards were more concerned with Saberon lurking in the brush. Wrathion found that interesting - He knew generally of the orcs and ogres and even the arakkoa, but the Saberon had been entirely wiped out in Outland for some reason.

Conversation stopped as Taylor stopped by with a satchel for Wrathion.

"You have mail," he said, dropping the bundle to the table.

"Oh! Thank you for bringing it to me. I imagine you found it boring reading?"

The admiral frowned at him and tapped the letter on top of the stack. It bore an official seal of the Alliance as well as that of the Kirin Tor. "I don't make it a habit of reading sealed mail that isn't addressed to me."

"Oh, I see. I thank you all the same Admiral."

He grunted. "Finn seems to think you're useful. Just don't cause any further misunderstandings," he warned then stalked off in the direction of the nearly finished barracks.

Wrathion passed his mail to Right then finished the conversation with those at the table. As much as he needed to build ties, he did need to address the letters in the satchel. Left lit the lights and Right broke the seal and unbound the packet of letters.

"Looks like two with Kirik Tor seals and one that's Stormwind," she said as she landed the letters over. Wrathion considered them all then opened the one that had been on top.

 

_W,  
I hear everything in Pandaria was just a 'big misunderstanding'. Your mastery of the understatement is impressive. _

_I also know that the Shadowmoon Orcs are terrified of an uncontrollable demon made of shadow. It killed one of their warlocks. Also, a lot of their mounts were suddenly stolen. My, what poor luck for them. I am weeping. Truly._

_Wrynn knows you're here but hasn't ordered you be returned to Azeroth. He trusts Taylor's judgement and I may have mentioned the raid on the Iron Horde aligned Orcs and the "shadowy demon" that bears an entirely coincidental resemblance to black dragonwhelp._

_Also, I don't know what you did for Taylor's architect but mine wants you to come here and do whatever magical thing that has Finn singing your praises. You didn't even make him collect several hundred pointless items! I'm slightly offended.  
-Z_

_P.S. Enclosed is mail from Azeroth. I'm not your secretary. Make one of the Talons do it._

 

Wrathion set her letter aside and considered the other two. He picked the one with the Kirin Tor seal and broke it.

A long strip of cloth fell from the letter. It was embroidered in arcane sigils in gold and octarine thread. It buzzed with power when he picked it up. The letter was simple.

_DO NOT OPEN THE BOOK in clear common in large letters. Below the order was smaller text._

_"Further assistance will be forthcoming. Wrap this cloth around the book as many times as you can and leave it alone until I can provide you with something better. If you have already opened the book, close it, wrap the book up, and leave it alone. I will be in contact again as soon as possible."_

_-Kalec_

_PS. You don't want to end up a fel-corrupted slave or possessed by a dreadlord. Trust me. Don't open the book._

Well. 

Wrathion wrapped the book up as he'd been instructed. The magic in the book did not like that. Wrapping the simple cloth around it became more difficult - his hands felt resistance as he tried to wrap it around. When the final turn was finished the resistance abruptly faded away. As did a growing feeling at the back of his head. He only noticed it now that it had abruptly stopped. Feeling a bit sick, he emptied one of the footlockers that had come with the tent, set the wrapped book inside. He pulled a large stone from the earth and then set it on the foot locker's lid. The low-level temptation to open the book had disappeared as soon as it had been sealed.

Right and Left looked at the chest in alarm. "Should we burn it?" Left asked. Right rubbed her arms and shivered.

"Kalecgos will send something else. In fact I think I will send him a letter right now," Wrathion said, going to the desk and writing out something quick. He handed the letter to Right. "Can you mail this without being seen? It should find him quickly."

"Aye. the Shadowmoon mail hub should ship off quickly." Right took the letter and left via the back of the tent. She vanished into the night, easily evading the notice of the guards on watch.

Wrathion let out a long breath and looked at the final letter in the set. He broke the seal and opened the letter.

_Wrathion_

_I have gone through several drafts of this letter. I'm going to be blunt._

_You're wrong._

_Unity could be achieved. I believe it can be achieved. Your Iron Horde 'solution' is no solution at all and unless other steps are taken, will serve only to drain power and resources. It makes for ample opportunity to create even more animosity._

_The orcs were conquered once. They were not treated well and this led to more hatred. Your Iron Horde would face not only attack from the Legion but likely subversion from within. I sincerely doubt any races of the Horde or the Alliance would take subjugation well. Look at what we accomplished in Icecrown. Or the Maelstrom. Or in Pandaria. When we were threatened with annihilation and subjugation, we rose up and fought back and won. Together._

_The only good thing to come of this might possibly be the allies we find on the other side of the portal._

_I have thought it over and that isn't true. I'm tired of re-writing this letter so I'll just pick it up here. You'll find out anyway. Some other good did come of the worst idea you have had yet. We have another enemy to be united against and the shock of mortality has put a lot into perspective._

_Did you know how many people died at the Temple? Did you see the Dragonmaw riding Infinite Dragons? You might have been willing to spare lives but the dark versions Kairozdormu pulled from other timeways and Garrosh's allies have no such reservations. He would kill you too given half a chance._

_Jaina died. Did you know that? My father nearly died. I nearly died. An alternate version of me did die. It is only through the intervention of the Red Crane that Jaina and the others were not lost for good._

_You speak of your charge to protect Azeroth, but can you honestly say you were protecting any of us? Aren't we Azeroth? If Azeroth is nothing to you but the dirt under our feet then you're wrong there too._

_We might be able to settle some differences now, but I know that was not your intent - far from it. So I will not be thanking you. It's going to be harder than it needed to be. When we could be building that unity you speak of, we are instead wasting time, attention and resources quelling invasions and funding expansionist expeditions. Still, I must try to do what I can._

_Don't try to stop me. I'm doing all I can for Azeroth too._

_Fight the Legion. They're our real enemy, aren't they?_

_You have a lot of nerve asking me for anything. But I will take you at face value since I know you loathe the Legion more than practically anyone else. If there is a priest where you are or among your group of followers, they might possibly be able to enact a cleansing on the book itself. However my reading states you'll need to nullify any active magic already at work. I'll ask Jaina and Kalecgos._

_The scroll I'm reading says that things like what you described are dangerous. I'd rather not see my father send warriors to kill a fel-corrupted black dragon. You're no Deathwing but the Legion could empower you like he was. Sargeras is a Titan after all, isn't he? If you want to protect Azeroth don't let them get their claws on you._

_-Anduin_

Wrathion refolded the letter and tucked it into his tunic. "I am going to take a walk."

* * *

[28]

Left scrambled after him. The guards tried to stop him, but a few extra gold and a quiet word from the Orc got them to follow him around the garrison. He stalked, heels digging into the ground, hands clenched.

Anduin's words were terrifying. It was potentially even worse than his father. A Fel-empowered Aspect? He shuddered, just thinking about it, cold for the first time since entering the Spires. He scowled at the strange sky. He would not let them get him. 

Anduin was wrong, too. Wrathion would cripple the Shadow Council and then he would see what was going on with the Iron Horde. He snorted. Then he would return to Azeroth and build proper defenses.

The Old Gods had infected his father somehow. His connection to the earth and their presence for so many thousands of years, dug in like ticks, had likely allowed them to slip in somehow. Who would be most vulnerable then to the Fel?

He could not discount himself entirely. He was a perfect Black Dragon, fashioned after the original Titan template wasn't he? Such a thing might make him more vulnerable. he was, he had to admit, young.5

Life and creation were the antithesis of destruction, but perhaps that duality would mark Alexstrasza as most vulnerable.

Perhaps it would be the Blues and their arcane magics that would draw the Mad Titan's eye? The Well of Eternity and its magic had been central to the first Legion incursion to Azeroth hadn't it? Kalecgos' flight might therefore be most vulnerable to fel magic.

Nozdormu's future was set. Possibly. Wrathion was coming to sincerely dislike time-travel and everything about it. The Bronzes were already broken into the Infinites and who knew what their ultimate plans were. They might very well fling themselves headlong into the waiting arms of the Legion.

Ysera and the dreamy greens... Of all the Aspects, Wrathion considered her and her flight to be the least susceptible to fel corruption. They had dealt with demons and nightmares before, but their realm was harder to access and therefore probably harder to corrupt. Like him, they were on guard. 

Wrathion shook his head, dismissing the troubling thoughts. He was aware of a startlingly obvious and terrifying possibility but now that he knew, he could make plans and handle it. Besides there was no reason to believe anyone was being targeted. yet at least.

Motion out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. A shadow detached itself from the wall of the garrison and crossed the yard. Frowning, he walked in that direction, tracking it out of the corner of his eye. The shadow slipped into the tents of the supporting crafters and disappeared near the herbalist and the mage, Ephial.

Wrathion paused. "Did you see it?"

"Yes," Left said. Her eyes were turned to the other side of the garrison, scanning the area.

"Threat?"

"Don't know. Looked Human."

"Have the mage watched," he said. He didn't dig his heels in quite so hard on his way back into the tent.

Right had returned from her short errand. A missive had been added to the pile already on the small camp desk. Wrathion inclined his head to her and went to read the report from his own encampment.

Your Majesty,

The hunt goes well. Using the information gained we have located the trails of key lieutenants. Their leader remains elusive.

Your gift is inbound. The first shipment should arrive in the morning. The information we have gathered so far will be with the crew arriving with the supplies. We will have direct connection to the mailing network in two days.

Have received contact from the Talons you deployed earlier.

We await instruction.

Your loyal servant,  
Master Grey

"We seem to have found some leads," Wrathion mused as he passed the letter over to his lieutenants. He didn't have any information to act on that night though. He resumed his natural form and stretched out his legs and wings. "Wake me early," he instructed. "I wish to be up well before my gift arrives."

* * *

"Your majesty. Wake up."

Wrathion opened one eye. Pale morning light had slipped into the tent. The air was chilly and damp. Morning in the Spires was unpleasant currently but he felt confidant that if his friendly conversation the evening before hadn't earned him some of the camp's ration of bacon, the gift certainly would.

"The supplies are inbound?" he asked, beating his wings slowly as he yawned and stretched.

"Yes, your Highness," Left said.

Right entered the tent, allowing more light inside as well as the smells of breakfast. Wrathion's stomach rumbled.

"Report," he said with a yawn. Changing into his human form he stretched his arms over his head.

She held up the small remote communication device they'd reassembled once inside the garrison. "About half an hour out by grey's estimation."

"Good! Enough time for breakfast then."

Like dinner, breakfast was held communally in camp. Aside from the staff, Wrathion was not the only early riser. The Architect was there, flirting with his wife if their body language gave any indication. The night guards who'd been relieved had already tucked in to their plates. A few of the workmen were up and about. And Ephial.

Wrathion and his bodyguards got their food and Wrathion chose a large table on which to hold court.

"He was up all night," Left informed him in a low voice.

"Doing?" Wrathion asked, not looking at the strange man.

"Unsure. We saw Arcane lights."

Wrathion nodded. The bacon was locally caught wild boar and had a different taste from the boar he'd last had on Azeroth. Perhaps it was the more gamey taste. Interesting that such animals would taste subtly differently. Interesting also that boars were found on two different worlds. And wolves now that he thought about it.

Were boars and wolves and birds part of some pre-set, basic population package the Titans used when they went about ordering a world? Had Draenor been ordered? Chewing thoughtfully, Wrathion looked around at nothing in particular when there was a commotion at the front gate. Smiling, Wrathion Finished his meal and waited like a good guest. He didn't have to wait long before he was summoned.

"Admiral Taylor, you needed something?" he asked as he approached.

Grey led an elekk tethered to a cart, groaning under the weight of supplies. Other talons followed behind with animals bearing more supplies or escorting carts.

"What is this?"

"Just something to make life easier here in Draenor," Wrathion said, smiling. He gave the admiral a little bow. "I have made arrangements for more to follow tomorrow."

Taylor gestured and the guards began to search the crates. They wouldn't find anything interesting. Wrathion smiled pleasantly as the Admiral exercised due diligence.

"Building supplies, sir. And some foodstuffs," one of the guards reported.

"Where did they come from?" Taylor asked.

"Legitimate trade and sales," Wrathion said. "As you can see not all the goods are locally produced. I have chosen to donate supplies I brought for my own benefit to your cause. I believe it is the least I can do as a guest of your garrison, Admiral."

Taylor grunted and waved the caravan through. The talons present began to help the guards unload the wagons and beasts. A few began to help carry items into the camp under the watchful eye of the garrison guards.

"Why?"

"Well if I am to be your guest, I certainly have no need of them," Wrathion explained. "As I explained when I arrived, I am a friend."

Taylor eyed him long and hard, his expression never moving. Wrathion had a brief moment of self doubt before Taylor rolled his eyes and waved him off. "If Finn says they're legitimate you have our thanks."

Wrathion bowed and left with his escorts flanking him. He was fairly certain that the Talon's information had already been passed to Right while he kept the Admiral's attention.

Grey slipped into the tent five minutes after they'd arrived. Wrathion was halfway through the documents when the Worgen appeared.

"You've located Teron'gor and Cho'Gall among others? No eyes on Gul'dan?" Wrathion confirmed.

Grey bobbed a nod. "Yes your Highness. Teron'Gor and another lieutenant named Ghul are in Talador. An Orc named Wazra is in the area. There's another named Nurakan in Frostwall and Shadowmoon valley still has many including Ner'zhul." Grey said. "Cho'gall has been seen all over the place. He's the hardest to keep track of."

"Except for Gul'dan."

"Except for Gul'dan," Grey agreed.

"Keep an eye on the locals," Wrathion said. "We'll work on the lieutenants in Frostwall and Talador first. The local warlock might get communication we can use."

"Flush them out of hiding," Grey nodded. "Yes, your highness."

"You had word from the Talons deployed in Shadowmoon and Frostwall?"

He handed over three sealed documents.

"Good. Get back to the caravan. I'll see you tomorrow."

Grey bowed then left as quietly and discreetly as he'd arrived. It would be some time before the excitement and hard work of moving supplies was done. He'd make an appearance around lunch to collect his due goodwill and continue to make alliances. Wrathion pulled out his map of Draenor and considered it.

"Thoughts," he asked his bodyguards.

"Is it wise to leave the local warlock active?" Left asked.

"I have the utmost confidence in your abilities," he said. "And if this lieutenant is the closest then it is likely orders to kill me will come to her."

Left looked unhappy but nodded.

"Thoughts?" he asked Right.

"Westin is likely to join us, but you'll need another day to convince her. Her partner will give you consideration for gold, but he's not Talon material. The guard on second shift might as well. There's a Draenei in the camp, one of the blacksmiths. He keeps asking to go back to Shadowmoon. Might be an opportunity. Goodwill. Messages. Supplies. Not sure."

"Ah," Left mused. "He was rather... loud when he was shouting. He was assigned here and is not happy about that fact."

"Any idea why?"

"I can find out," Right offered.

Wrathion pursed his lips. "No. I'll see to it myself. You'll be on hand to notice anything I do not."

The lunch bell rang outside and Wrathion packed away his maps and had Left and Right hide them. He straightened his tunic and eyed the heavy rock holding down the foot locker. "No word from Kalecgos?"

"Not yet."

"Hmm. Well it is a bit early in the day yet. Left, I'm afraid you're guarding the book." He nodded in the direction of camp. "Now that we know a warlock is in the area I'd rather not have it left lone."

She bowed. Wrathion smiled and threw open his tent flap and stepped outside.

* * *

[29]

Lunch was disappointing.

It was made of rationed bread and a thin stew of tubers and some local game. Wrathion gritted his teeth and ate it anyway. Surely this planet would have some small game he could catch and eat later. Still it was remarkable what Mistress Finn had been able to do while keeping everything to a bare minimum. 

They were only two weeks into their expedition, but Taylor had the entire garrison on strict rations until they had a better idea of what game was present in the area or they had more consistent supply lines back home. Mail was moved once a day unless there was an emergency and larger supply runs were expected to be rare for the timebeing.

Wrathion put on a pleasant face and made small talk with the inhabitants of the camp. He learned that the aggressive, oversized insects in the area had kept the hunters sticking close to the garrison, contributing to the state of rations and little fresh meat.

"I think we should be out there," one of the hunters, a night elf, said. He pointed his fork at his companion across the table as he spoke. "Luka and I can handle anything." Her jerked a thumb over his shoulder where an especially large owl was perched on a nearby stump, ripping into a small game animal. It looked delicious.

"If you go, we should take a full party and clear the area," one of the builders said. He had a face like a craggy hillside and the furrow of his brows was like a landslide. "I'd rather not see you hurt."

Wrathion rolled his eyes and turned away from the touching display between the two, but set the information aside for later. Looking around camp he found the draenei blacksmith who'd been mentioned earlier. He ate mechanically and efficiently then wiped his hands, returned his bowl and utensils to the wash line, did his dishes and returned to his tent. Wrathion turned from looking at him to the others around the camp. There was clearly some manner of dissatisfaction present. He'd have one of his people look into it.

Wrathion accepted more thanks from the Architect and returned to his tent to view the reports from his people embedded with the Garrisons in Frostwall and Shadowmoon.

He opened the one from His Talon in Frostfire first.

_My Prince,_

_I have been able to confirm that Garrosh Hellscream has taken up leadership of Warsong while his father wields the might of the Iron Horde._

_The Frostwolves stand opposed to the Iron Horde. We face the Thunderlord clan on one side and Ogre slavers in the Bladespire Fortress on the other. The Frostwolves are valiant but it is clear they would not have survived if not for our arrival. It is doubtful we would have been able to make much headway without their support. Despite the forces arrayed against us, we are making plans to secure the area more fully. I believe we will have strong allies and strong warriors from their forces should we all survive - or what passes as survival for some of us. We have a target in mind and our forces will march soon._

_Archmage Khadgar is working openly with the Garrison Commander. This is seen as suspicious by some in camp, but I trust the commander's willingness to work with the Archmage. He has been honest about his attempts to assist in what ways he can though he is in defiance of the rest of the Kirin Tor leadership to do so. Relatedly, Khadgar departed for Dalaran yesterday. I would expect he was being recalled to answer for his defiance except he has been practically giddy since receiving the summons. Or more than is his usual. If the Rogue knows the source of his glee she is not telling._

_Our scouts have reported that the Bloodmaul Ogres are exchanging slaves and services with the Iron Horde. I do not have more information than this to my regret. Most of our resources have been focused on securing the area._

_No word has reached us as to the location of the Bronze. Or Garrosh Hellscream. We know the orc lives, but we do not have his location._

_-Itolla_

Wrathion set the letter aside. It was information about the area but nothing particularly interesting. He'd need to tell her about the warlocks in the area and the new mission of the Talons. The black prince picked up the letter from his second hidden ebonblade.

_My Prince,_

_Nice work with the local raids. Made mopping up the rest of that area easy. The Mage wants to kick Nerzhul's demon-summoning arse soon. Can't say I will be sorry to see him go._

_Not much to report. We've been nibbling away at the Shadowmoon Orcs bit by bit as we help the Draenei retake the area._

_-Calaena_

A short letter. Wrathion pondered it as he opened the last one, the one from the gnome rogue who'd been sent in secret to watch over the Night Elf deathknight.

_Boss,_

_The elf has gone wandering a few times. Dunno why. Haven't confronted her about it. The skulking about is a bit weird but then she's the undead. Who knows what's going on in their heads, really?_

_The Commander has us hitting the Shadowmoon lands hard. Void stuff all over the place. One of the hunters brought back a glowing purple wolf. Not really relevant to the job, but it's a glowing. Purple. Wolf._

_Been doing some recon of the area. They did not like getting hit like they did, oh no sir. They closed ranks a little but that's hardly a problem for yours truly. Just say the word and they get a nice booty bay smile._

_-you know who_

 

Wrathion smirked at Master Fizzbang's bloodymindedness. He wondered what the Death Knight was getting up to in her wanderings.

Wrathion quickly penned a letter in return to Fizzbang asking him to continue to watch over the other Talon. To Calaena and Itolla he wrote letters informing them of the Talons' new war on the Shadow Council and specifically told Itolla about the Warlock, Wazra, operating in Frostfire.

He signed and sealed the letters then sent them back into the mail system by way of Right's skill with being unnoticed. Wrathion contemplated the grimoire in the chest then walked away. His curiosity was not worth being killed. How ignominious for him to die to something as mundane as a spell-worked trap on a _book_.

The rest of the day proved to be exceptionally boring. He managed to discern which guards would be amenable to a little extra gold in exchange for consideration but otherwise he was left to his own devices. He wasn't certain if it was insulting or not.

So he planned.

He would need to get the word out somehow. There were fewer champions here but they would come seeking promised riches. They always had before. They were as reliable as the tides in that way; sometimes more, sometimes fewer, but they would arrive at his doorstep, hands held out, minds ready for orders.

Wrathion was surprised he did not see a followup letter from Kalecgos yet, but then the blue dragon was probably trying to stop Proudmoore from skinning Khadgar alive for flaunting her Anti-Horde edict. His dreams that night were filled with dark shapes and green fire. He woke the next morning in a foul mood. He took his breakfast in his tent and only exited when the rest of the supplies he'd ordered arrived. At least now he would have more support in camp.

Wrathion accepted the further praise from the Architect and the builders. He wished to meet with his people, but it was important they integrate into the camp first. 

"I know what we will be doing first," Wrathion said to Right and Left as they returned to his tent. "I have two specific targets I want to send our people against. Are our means of communicating with the rest of the talons secured?"

"The other half of the transmitter should be in with the second shipment," Right confirmed. "It will take some time to assemble the apparatus."

"If the weather hasn't damaged anything," Left grumped. Right shrugged a shoulder, conceding the point. "Backup is we physically run messages until the magi Neseema can form a stable mailing portal for us. Portals aren't portable though."

Wrathion nodded. A gnomish machine could be moved and used by anyone, but a portal existed until it didn't and were significantly harder to move around. "I want to meet with everyone. not all at once but over the next day I want to update everyone in camp." He paused as a shadow fell across the front of his tent just as his bodyguards went tense.

"Sir?" Master Grey's growling voice called into the tent. "I believe you might want to come out here."

Looking at Right and Left, he nodded for Right to stay put and motioned for Left to follow. Walking out into the midmorning sunlight, he blinked a bit. Coming in his direction were Taylor and a handful of guards. Taylor kept casting glances at the man striding beside him.

The newcomer was tall and broad shouldered. His travelling leathers were of fine make but showed no wear. His hair was long and blue-black with an iridescent sheen that no human nor elf, nor half-elf, as this man appeared to be, ever had.

Wrathion paused in his steps only slightly. Had Kalec told him of his plans? Of the book? He drew to a halt as the others did and offered a polite bow. "Admiral Taylor. Lord Kalecgos. How might I be of assistance?"

Kalec nodded at Taylor who snorted and waved a hand, apparently happy to leave the dragons alone. Wrathion did not know what to make of that. He watched the human go them looked up at the blue dragon. Kalecgos looked stern which was somewhat surprising as the former Aspect of Magic was known to be soft.

"We need to talk," the blue said.


	5. 30

Wrathion's red eyes widened just a little bit. Kalec wasn't so... stern. Usually. "Ah, you are here about the book I imagine?"

"Yes and some other items. But let's handle the book first. Did you do as instructed?"

Of course he did! What did the blue take him for? An idiot? Wrathion narrowed his eyes. "I did as the letter said, yes."

"Good," Kalec said. "I brought some runestones which can be used to neutralize the spells we are likely to find." He patted the satchel at his side.

Wrathion looked him over for a moment. He seemed to relax once the book had been confirmed as restrained for the moment. Perhaps it was a more dangerous item than realized. Wrathion turned on his heel. "This way." He led the way assuming Kalecgos would follow. He noted where his various people were within the camp as he walked. Most appeared to have begun the process of integrating into the camp and he was pleased to see that the garrison inhabitants were happy to have the added resources more than they were suspicious.

"Here," Wrathion said, ducking into his tent. He pointed at the chest at the end of one of the cots then crossed his arms. "I put it in there." The chest now had a slightly ominous aura and he'd been sleeping well away from it since he'd sealed the tome. He wasn't certain if it was actually giving off any sort of energy or if he was merely...exercising due caution. No matter, Wrathion was keeping it at arm's length. He lifted his chin and looked away so the blue wouldn't see how much he was discomfited. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kalec gave him a solemn nod. 

"It was smart thinking to recognized the book for what it was and not open it without some precaution," Kalecgos said as he cast a few spells on the chest. "Better still you not only sealed it with the binding but shut it away so it couldn't accidentally be unbound."

Wrathion relaxed a bit. Maybe the blue's demeanor was just about the book after all. Still, it would be best to remind the blue that he wasn't an incompetent as the reds seemed to think. "Yes. Well. I am not an idiot."

"Not at all," Kalec said, apparently distracted by the results of his spellcasting. "We may need to move the book," the blue said gravely. He crouched down and opened the chest. The hinge creaked. The blue reached for the book but stopped, a brief look of disgust on his face. Curious and worrisome.

"Move it where?" Wrathion asked. "You're not going to destroy it. It's mine! I need the secrets inside!" He had not come this far to be set back again.

Careful of the binding, Kalec lifted the book out of the chest. He hastily closed the chest and set the book down on top.

"Is something wrong?" Wrathion sneered. Was the book even too much for the vaunted powers of the blue dragons, he wondered. Or was Kalecgos just skittish around magic that wasn't arcane?

"The defensive magics are strong. I'm impressed you managed to carry it back."Kalec said, sounding impressed. "How did you manage to do that?"

Wrathion set his hands on his hips and smirked back at the other dragon. Well! At least someone recognized his talent. "I slew the warlock and took it!"

He waited while the blue paused again, his gaze a bit intent. Wrathion would not allow himself to look weak. He wasn't certain if the blue dragon was trying to intimidate him or if this was just how blue dragons were. He had little interaction with them. The spirit of Tarecgosa was the closest he'd come to regular contact with one and even then she was hardly typical.

"Would you hold the book a moment, I want to see something," Kalecgos asked.

Wrathion stared at him for a long moment. "Why?" What was the blue trying to pull?

"Because I want to see if the ambient magic has the same effect on you as it does on me."

"What?"

"It will help me determine what we're looking at," Kalec said.

Wrathion rolled his eyes and picked up the book, mindful of the binding. "There. Now. Disable it."

Kalec leaned in then closer still. It was frankly a bit unnerving the way the Blue's eyes grew unfocused and began to glow.

"Are you unable to disable it?"

"I am. I was evaluating how it was reacting to being held by a black dragon with a different energy profile than my own." Kalec straightened. "I saw an open area nearby outside the walls of the garrison. Having taken a closer look I think it would be wise for me to do this in an area with a bit more room in case something goes wrong."

Wrathion's eyes widened slightly. "How wrong?"

Kalec considered the tome. "A mistake will probably engulf the book and the user in a column of fire."

Wrathion blinked then his eyes drifted down to the book. "Oh." Oh. Well then.

"You're likely the best equipped to handle it right now," Kalec said, drawing Wrathion's attention away from the book. "I could probably throw up a shield in time, but I would appreciate it if you didn't drop the book all the same." Kalec looked from the whelp to his two bodyguards then back. "You'll need the assistance of a mage to be able to unravel wards in the future. I understand you usually travel with a retinue. Do you have a mage among them? Perhaps whoever is using the shield charms in the tent out there?" Kalec nodded his head in the general direction of the tent in question.

Wrathion blinked at him then followed the direction indicated; Ephial's tent and it's strange noises and lights and smells. There was something going on there and he did not entirely trust the mage. Eccentricity had no place in his plans. Wrathion's eyes narrowed. "Not Ephial."

Kalec tilted his head. "Why not?"

Wrathion considered his answer. Best to appear competent. He and the Talons could handle one eccentric mage and surely Taylor hadn't brought someone entirely disruptive. "He is part of the Admiral's compliment and I cannot speak to his competence. I need competent help if I am to be successful. Which is why I called on you. Though you have yet to actually do anything I've asked." Perhaps is he needled the blue's pride Kalecgos might disable the highly dangerous tome Wrathion held. He might even be compelled to assist! That would make Wrathion's job much easier.

Kalec gave him a flat look. "I'll be able to disable the wards on the book. I am under no illusion you won't try this again. You need to be able to do this in the future."

"So you won't be staying to help me in this endeavor then." He nodded to himself. "How unsurprising," he scoffed. Of course. He probably thought it was better to go make mooning eyes at Proudmoore than actually anything a proper dragon was supposed to do; like protect their world.

"I have duties elsewhere," Kalec explained, in that obnoxious way adults used when they felt they were dealing with a child. Wrathion rolled his eyes as Kalec continued. "While I will not be staying I do want to leave you with tools to protect yourself and the people around you."

Wrathion scowled. "Seems to me that with your flight disbanded you have few duties elsewhere."

Kalec gave him a flat look. "You're on Draenor and our charge was Azeroth. For someone who has used that as his excuse to cause so much harm to others, you're awfully far from home."

Wrathion winced. That was a thought that lived in the back of his mind and _itched_. How dare the Blue accuse him of abandoning his duties! He was the most dutilful of the dragons, by far! "I am upholding my charge by being here! What are you doing?" he snapped.

"Upholding mine," Kalec said, mildly. "Ensuring you are able to properly and safely handle dangerous magical items like that book is part of that. Helping the Kirin Tor is another. Do you have a mage you can call on or should I coordinate with Archmage Zaliya in Shadowmoon so you have that resource."

The blue didn't snap back which was slightly surprising. And, Wrathion supposed, it did make some sense that with a charge like Magic, the blue would be far more compelled to stay in his area with others of similar skills. Wrathion had no such backup. He straightened his tunic with his free hand and drew himself up. "One of my Talons is a mage," he said using a more reasonable tone. "She is quite talented." 

"Is she near?" Kalec asked.

Wrathion tucked the book under one arm, against his fear and caution. He wouldn't flinch before the blue leader. "She arrived with the rest of the supplies I am graciously donating to Admiral Taylor's garrison." 

Wrathion strode from the tent without a backwards glance. Right and Left fell into step with him.

Amid the hustle and bustle of the garrison, there was a motley assortment of people unloading crates from a laden cart. They stopped what they were doing as Wrathion approached, only returning to their tasks when he waved a dismissive hand at them.

"Neseema?" he called out to his mage.

A draenei with a fluffy corona of short dark hair, one side side of her face deeply scarred, stopped what she was doing and wiped her hands on her pants. "Your highness?" Her eyes flicked to Kalecgos then back to Wrathion, wary of the outsider and looking to Wrathion for guidance.

"I need your assistance with a magical matter," Wrathion said.

She bobbed a slight bow, glancing at Kalec again, then returned her attention to Wrathion. "Of course."

Wrathion waved for everyone to return to their task of unloading a large wagon and turned on his heel. It was a small matter of informing Taylor that Kalecgos would be taking Wrathion outside of the Garrison's walls to disable the grimoire. Right would remain and Left would attend him. It was annoying to have only the one on hand in case things went sideways, but Wrathion could respect Taylor for employing a hostage. Wrathion supposed it was as prudent a measure as could be made. Still, it was amusing that the Admiral believed he could hold Right hostage if she didn't wish it. He allowed the Garrison guard to accompany them but the guard was a poor replacement for Right in a fight. Oh well. He had to play nice to his Host if he wished to use the Garrison has a base of operations.

Outside of the garrison walls, Kalecgos stepped away and shifted into his natural form. He stretched his wings and rolled his shoulders before turning to Wrathion. "I saw a clear area a little ways off." He dipped his shoulder silently extending the invitation to the other dragon.

rathion eyes the blue dragon. He'd never ridden on the back of another dragon before and it seemed... odd somehow. Strangely intimate. He looked over his shoulder at the guard already astride her gryphon and the draenei shifting her weight from hoof to hoof. He sighed, put upon, and stalked forward, the book still held firmly under one arm.

 

Khazgoroth's beard Kalecgos was a massive beast. It was somewhat difficult to climb up and keep the book bound. Annoyed, he resolved the issue of his uncoordinated human form and shifted into his natural one. He flew up, the book held easily in his pawns and and settled on the broad backplates of the blue dragon. He resumed his humanoid shape to better hold onto the book. This seemed to amuse the blue dragon further and Wrathion scowled and made a shooing gesture to indicate they should be about their business.The small party flew to the cleared area Kalec had spotted from the air.

Once at the location Kalecgos carefully explained the use of the runes to both Wrathion and mage Neseema. The wards on the book were a nasty business which would have engulfed the a large area in fel flames - at the least. Neseema took to the task with fervor. She'd been one of the last Dranei on the Exodar when the Legion had found them. She respected the prophet for his kindness, wisdom and foresight, but he was too passive. Wrathion she suspected that she was almost looking forward to killing demons. The mage took great delight in destroying anything related to the Fel.

Kalec took a tedious amount of time to explain the setup to both of them. Wrathion got the gist of what was going on but then declared that Neseema would be his proxy. Arcane matters were not where his strengths lay, though he knew there had been black dragons in the past who had trained in the Arcane arts. Onyxia had been the most infamous example. His strengths lay in manipulating earth. He decided his time would be best spent in looking for enemies so he created a little patrol route for himself.

Which was, unfortunately boring. The magic was boring as well, but it was more interesting than looking at an empty sky.

"What are you doing?" Wrathion asked. 

It took Kalecgos a moment to draw his focus away from whatever it was they were doing. Wrathion considered for a moment if it was wise to disturb the pair when kalecgos answered him. "The magical wards around the book form a sort of trap," he explained. "The lines are held under metaphysical tension and require a specific key to unlock safely."

The whelp digested that for a moment. He's been taught about traps and how to disable them by the rogues of Ravenholdt. It had been fascinating seeing how everything worked together, so delicate and yet so deadly. "Are you looking to pick the lock or snip the wires? Metaphorically speaking of course," Wrathion asked, quickly adding the last. It wouldn't do for the blue to think he was speaking of actual locks and keys and did not understand metaphor. 

"A little bit of both actually, which is what makes something like this a bit tricky," Kalec told him. "Once we unlock the mechanism we'll see about unravelling the rest of the warding work, taking it apart bit by bit. Unlike many types of mechanical traps there's a lot of energy still stored in the wards once the mechanism is disabled."

"Is that what those runestones are for, then?" Wrathion stopped pacing and sat on the ground. This was more interesting, and involved, than he'd realized. And, knowing how the enemy set their traps meant he would be better able to combat them.

"Actually the runestones are lockpicks to continue the metaphor," Kalec said. "Expanding on the analogy, in some ways they're like levers if you are familiar with-"

"I know how basic mechanics work," Wrathion snapped. "I am not an idiot." Reds had treated him as such. So had many adult humans. And some certain teenage princes.

Kalec frowned, pausing in his casting. "Not all four year olds are familiar with physics and mechanics," Kalec said.

"I am a _dragon_ ," Wrathion huffed, climbing to his feet again. So many seemed to forget that little fact, as all important as it was. He had the proper knowledge of all young dragons even if his egg had been meticulously crafted by the Titan device. "I am well versed in many basic concepts even if I have been on my own." He waved a dismissive hand which was accompanied by a small scoffing noise.

Kalecgos frowned slightly, then let the issue drop. Well! At least this blue was somewhat respectful of the ability of other dragos. How very nice it was to be treated with a modicum of respect by a peer for once.

"Runestones like these make the work easier. We still have a great deal of heavy lifting to do, but many of these help. Some of these actually hold some of the metaphysical threads in place while we manually tumble the lock. Er- it's similar to that but all done with power and energy flow."

"I see. Do you often do this?" Wrathion's eyes followed the spinning circles of magic in the air and noted the pattern of the stones around the book, taking in the details.

"Disable wards set up by warlocks clearly tampering in fel magic? No, not often. I have in the past, though. These runes were made specifically to aid in disabling a number of fel-based threats."

It was well Kalecgos had this knowledge at all. But Wrathion needed it here in Draenor. "You will teach Neseema."

Kalec's eyes flicked to Wrathion then to the Draenei. Neseema was focused on her task.

"If she is amenable and I determine she is able to handle this safely. I will not place her in further danger because you have a strong desire to kill the Shadow Council and won't provide her with the necessary backup," Kalec said firmly.

The whelp glared but then nodded once. "Fine," he allowed. He drifted closer again, eyeing the glowing circles and sigils in the air with studied disinterest, while making mental notes. Onyxia was not a dragon he wished to be compared to, so it was likely best if he stayed away from the study of the arcane.

"We're working past the second layer here," Kalec explained. Parts of the weave began to glow more than the others, showing what the blue spoke of. 

"How many layers were there?" Wrathion asked. "Is this typical?" He seated himself on the grass again, leaving the guarding work to the others.

"Four I can see. We'll know in a few moments," Kalec explained. "As for the typicality, I would consider this a medium level of security. That suggests to me you found something fairly valuable. It also likely means the information is dangerous."

"Personal spells?"

"Likely. Also the names of Demons and methods of summoning them almost certainly. Possibly some Shadow Council movement information which is what I assume you are most interested in."

"Yes," the whelp said. He watched quietly for a time then growled. "Well?" He stood at his mage's elbow, peering as close to the working as he dared. This was taking far too long. He had hoped this could be a process they would be able to do under duress in the field. It appeared as if more was involved which meant possibly transporting more dangerous artifacts. That was irksome but doable.

"They've layered in the security like a nesting doll," Neseema answered him, her voice absent as she was deep into the casting. "We're nearly done."

"Can you undo it?" Wrathion asked. "Will you be able to do it the next time we capture a prize?"

"We can and I feel confident I can do this again," she said with certainty.

"You're doing well. You've done a lot of intricate casting before," Kalec said. He'd been increasingly impressed by her level of fine control and efficiency.

The other mage glanced at him. "Once upon a time."

Wrathion tore his eyes from the book to glare daggers at Kalecgos. Neseema's history with the Legion, her place as an master enchanter in another version of Silvermoon, were hers to tell when she wished. It was not the place of the meddling Blue to ask. This endeavor was painful for his Talon, but her resolve to destroy the demons who had killed her loved ones remained strong. As her Lord, it was Wrathion's place to shield her from annoyances which would detract from her work. He bared his teeth, just a bit, in a silent order for Kalecgos to back off. The blue seemed to understand, and did so.

Unwinding the enchantments from the book took the better part of an hour. Once it was done, Kalec constructed a strong barrier shield then used a remote spell to remove the binding and open the book.

"Did it work?" Wrathion asked, watching as absolutely nothing happened under the faintly glowing shield.

"It didn't explode, so yes," Kalec said, removing the layers of shielding. He walked over but Wrathion beat him to the book. The Blue would not steal his prize. Wrathion picked it up and began to thumb through it, utterly absorbed almost instantly.

Kalec sighed and spoke to Neseema. "Any questions?"

"You'll really leave me those foci?" she asked.

"Yes. I am given to understand this is his new campaign. You'll need them."

"The Shadow Council are allies of the Legion," Wrathion interjected. He handed the book to his bodyguard and turned to face Kalecgos. "Thank you for your assistance in this matter, you are dismissed." He waved a hand at the other dragon, dismissing him. He could return to his cozy little lair with his human mate and read books all day or whatever it was blue dragons did now.

Kalec's lips twitched. "Actually if you had some time I wanted to know if we could speak a bit."

"Dragon to dragon?" Wrathion asked, arching a suspicious eyebrow. What did the blue want now? Perhaps his assistance had come with a hidden price. Wrathion wondered what it could be.

Kalec shrugged. "If you like. I am not opposed to your guards being present. I'd like to know more about your hunt for the Shadow Council."

Wrathion lifted his chin. "The less you know the better my operational security is, and aren't you returning to Azeroth?"

"Privacy spells can be cast," Kalec said. "No one outside would hear us speak if we remain at a conversational volume. If you need to get your guard's attention she can hear you."

Wrathion eyed his bodyguard. Left shrugged minutely indicating he would be watched. Wrathion turned narrowed eyes on Kalecgos.

"You had a question in the post script. I would be able to answer some of that for you," Kalec offered. 

Wrathion considered that. He had been curious about the answer but circumstance had prevented him from pursuing that line of thought. Well. he had a moment now. He supposed he could spare some time.

He nodded. "Acceptable. Left, if you would continue at your post. Neseema if you do not need a break would you join her and our guest from the Garrison?"

The mage finished securing the runestones into the satchel Kalec had brought to carry them in then bowed at the waist. She walked a few paces off and took a seat, watching the treeline and the sky for attack. The guard from the garrison eyed them both, shrugged, then turned to cover the remaining area around the pair of dragons.

Kalec conjured the promised privacy shield then a couple seats for them. "Before we get to the other question, I am truly curious about this new action against the Shadow Council." Kalec took a seat and after a moment Wrathion did as well.

Wrathion crossed his arms. "Why do you care?"

"Well for one, it might have an impact on what the Kirin Tor is doing here."

Wrathion glared. "I won't be in the way of your precious mortal mages."

"Actually I was wondering how I might be able to help."

Wrathion blinked then his eyes narrowed. "You. Helping."

"Not just me, but yes."

"Why would _you_ help?"

"Why are you so suspicious?" Kalec asked.

Wrathion tossed his head and looked away. "I would think you would have little interest in helping for a variety of reasons."

"Which are?" Kalec pressed.

The whelp's fingers tapped on his opposite arm. It was obvious. What game was Kalecgos playing? "Well. I am a black dragon. You're a blue."

"As far as I am aware you're untouched by the Old Gods-"

"I am perfectly sane!" Wrathion snapped.

Kalec continued as if the whelp had never spoken. "- and in ages past, all the dragonflights worked together to help keep our charges. We are all fewer and less powerful than before, but our Charges remain," Kalec said. 

Wrathion stared at him evenly, trying to discern the blue's angle in all of this.

"Anduin has mentioned that you take yours very seriously."

"You've spoken with Anduin?" Wrathion asked, the closed arms loosening just a bit. Wrathion had not spoken with the Prince of Stormwind since the trial. The letter in return had been... pointed. It hurt more than he wished to admit. Wrathion scowled and squashed the feeling down. No time for weakness.

Kalec tilted his head to the side. "I have. He came to speak with Jaina and me about your letter in fact."

Wrathion looked away again. "Well." His fingers tapped against his arm as he considered. His eyes slid back over to Kalec. "What did he say?"

"He said that he didn't want to see more people get hurt," Kalec began. 

Wrathion flinched, but caught it. Best not to look weak. Best if the blue didn't think this was a weakness of some sort. It wasn't. but it could be annoying for Wrathion or Anduin and truly, Wrathion did not wish additional duress for the other Prince. 

"But he also said that he believed you about the Legion returning," Kalec continued. 

Wrathion relaxed marginally. Anduin believed? Well of course he did! He was smart for a human.

"He said he sent you a letter in return." 

Wrathion hunched a bit before he stopped himself. "Well, he and I disagree on methods," Wrathion dismissed with a lofty air. 

" _I_ disagree on some of your methods," Kalec added, gently chastising. 

Wrathion glared. "I believe I apologized for inadvertently harming your human. It all turned out in the end." What more did the blue want?

"No, it didn't." Kalecgos leaned forward. "You have much to apologize for, Wrathion."

"Is that all you are here for? An apology because your human doesn't know how to handle herself in a fight?" He snapped. He would not apologize for the inability of others to handle themselves in a fight! he had done all he could to minimize the damage and he had not known the nature of the distraction Kairoz would produce.

Kalecgos growled in warning, the sound large enough it filled the space in the clearing and spilled beyond the confines of the shield. Wrathion had never heard such a sound so close and had never expected it from Kalecgos of all dragons. The feeling of fear passed, leaving behind an indignant annoyance.

"I will not apologize," Wrathion snarled. "Why should I apologize for anything when it means that ultimately Azeroth will be safe! Why should I when-" he broke off and changed what he was going to say. "A few lives aren't worth losing our world to the Legion!" He had been harmed in this process of everything. His egg had been the construct of a thoughtless red dragon, commissioned by a hypocritical queen. Why should he have any care for anyone else? They were lucky he had chosen to uphold his charge!

"It was wrong-" Kalec began.

"No!" Wrathion stood abruptly, his anger spilling out of her heart and into words. "I have upheld my charge. I am the last of the black dragons, or at least the last sane one. I did not ask for this, but the Charge of my flight falls to me and no other! I will not let the scheming, hypocritical reds take what is rightfully mine! _You_ may be content to let your flight surrender but I. Will. Not. Our world is in trouble. I have seen the green fire falling from the sky. I have seen the army that marches on us, desolation in its wake.The scene was very clear Kalecgos. One. Banner." His finger jabbed in the air as he made his point. "We will not survive the Legion if we are divided and _weak_. We cannot stand united while there is the question of who is mightiest." He knew he was smoking but he had ceased caring.

Kalec sat back, eyes wide.

"You talk of the Charges but do you ever keep yours?" Wrathion continued. "Did the reds come to take your charge too? Did you roll over and hand it off to that hypocritical bitch of a so-called queen you all worship?" His hands clenched and his teeth were bared. "If you're here to explain why everything that happened in the temple was wrong, you might as well just leave now because It. Wasn't. Wrong." It wasn't. It had been necessary. Messy and...not what Wrathion would have planned. But it had been necessary. it had to have been. He wasn't a pawn.

"It was!" Kalec said, voice raised to match the whelp's. Wrathion's lips pulled back in a silent snarl. "It was wrong," Kalec repeated, a low growl spilling into his words. "Everything about what you did was wrong, Wrathion, except your motivation. Actions have consequences. Your actions led to the deaths of many people-"

Wrathion growled a little. His fragile human had been hurt. He had apologized for her inteptetude already. "I believe I have apologized for harming your pet human-"

"Jaina is not a pet!" Kalec snapped with sudden ferocity, his eyes taking on the slitted appearance and color of his true form. Wrathion could practically feel the other dragon's emotions; love and fear and protectiveness. The intensity from the soft blue startled him into silence.

Kalec closed his eyes and sighed. When he looked at Wrathion again they were once more the faintly glowing blue of most mages. "You should apologize to _Jaina_. To the others who died. And to _Xuen_ and the other Celestials. And you should mean it, but at the moment I don't think you understand how you erred."

Wrathion set his jaw as he listened. "If everything has just gone according to plan, if people had just been rational, none of what happened at the trial would have been necessary!"

"None of what happened was necessary!"

"I was upholding my charge!" Wrathion snapped back. He shifted into his natural shape, wings whirring as he hovered at eye-level with the other dragon. "That is what I was created for! What we were all created for! What the Titans intended for us, or have you somehow missed that? I have done only what was necessary to see that our world doesn't drown in fel flames and demons. The aspects may have forgotten what we are for but I have not!" How dare this he chastise Wrathion!

"We have not forgotten-" 

"Why has Ysera ceded control of the Dream to the Druids?" Wrathion demanded to know. "Why has Nozdormu not intervened to help us survive and left mere mortals to patrol the timeways? Why has even that bitch Alexstrasza given up and disappeared? Why is the blue disbanded? Did you want to forget you were a dragon and pretend at humanity awhile?" He intended for the words to be cutting. Maybe if the veil was torn from his eyes, he might finally see Wrathion was right.

Kalecgos banished the seating and shifted shape, filling the area and expanding his privacy shield accordingly. Wrathion froze. Shocked. He had misjudged the blue, apparently. Kalecgos set his paws on either side of Wrathion, lowered his head and growled. The sound was massive. It shook the nearby brush and set Wrathion's teeth rattling in his head. He could feel the vibrations in his own chest. He wanted to curl up and slink away but he couldn't move from the massive jaws, sharp teeth and piercing eyes.

Perhaps he had miscalculated.

"The Kirin Tor will inherit the keeping of magic in this world when the last of my flight dies," Kalecgos said, his words ringing in the confines of the shield. "That day may come in ten years or it may come in ten thousand, but I act as I must to keep my Charge." He did something and his eyes began to glow. Wrathion hear Neseema yelp and scramble.

Wrathion's wings tightened against his sides as he rolled over, unable to escape, placing his claws up in a meager defense against the much larger and older dragon. He shook as a powerful, large, oppressive something, washed over him like a tide. Despite himself, a very tiny chirp escaped between his teeth. Once the first escaped it was very difficult to stop them.

Kalecgos sat on his haunches and rolled his flight shoulders to ease the tension and shook his head and neck, throwing off the last of the sensation as he would seawater. He drew in a breath and sighed it out. 

Wrathion squeeze his eyes shut, embarrassed by the sounds he was making and how utterly powerless he was in the face of the elder dragon. Kalec eased onto his stomach and pulled the smaller dragon close with one forepaw. The motion only sent a new wave of fear through him. The blue's paw was very large. Wrathion wasn't even as long as Kalec's talons.

"I did not come here to fight with you, truly I did not," Kalec said in a far more gentle voice. "And I did not mean to lose my temper."

Wrathion opened one eye and stared at Kalec. The blue was speaking to Left who had her gun pointed at his head. "He is fine. His anger was infectious." 

"I am sorry I lost my temper. Can we start again?"

Something changed and the oddly oppressive feeling disappeared, like a cover being drawn from a bed. Wrathion glared up at him, angry, wary and embarrassed. He tried to master his shivering but it was as hard to stop as the chirps had been. "If you're here to just take me and throw me into a cell get it over with," he ground out.

"I am not here to do that and I am not here to fight you," Kalec said. 

"Then why are you here?" Wrathion asked, uncurling slightly.

Kalec sighed. "To help you with the book and then to speak with you specifically. I wanted to answer your question about the Earthmother and I wanted to understand what you were trying to accomplish here on Draenor." 

Wrathion glared at him silently.

"Please tell me about the Shadow Council hunt?"

Wrathion stared up at him for a long moment. He didn't trust the blue but then it was clear the blue did not trust him. Still, he had resources at his disposal that Wrathion needed. Wrathion snorted and twisted around. He scrambled up so he was sitting on Kalec's wrist. "They will bring the Legion again if they are not stopped."

"And that is why you arranged things at the trial?"

"I did not-" he shouted then attempted to be calm. More shouting would only lead to Kalecgos shouting and Wrathion couldn't seem to control his own body when that happened. "The Iron Horde is stronger than the Alliance or the Horde of Azeroth. They will conquer and Azeroth will be safely united under a single banner." He lifted his nose into the air. "And I will see to it they are not influenced by the Legion."

"You didn't arrange this. Kairoz did," Kalec said, musing aloud.

Wrathion glared. "Well what else was I supposed to do when Wrynn turned out to be spineless and weak? He had the Horde at his mercy! Even Proudmoore was talking sense for once and what did Wrynn do? He let them go!" Wrathion began to pace up and down Kalec's arm, each step an angry stomp. Proudmoore hated the Horde and no doubt she hated Wrathion now, too. Which made it interesting that Kalec was here and _not_ to avenge his human mate.

"I imagine she'll be quite angry when she finds out you've been here. It might be wise if neither of us told her, don't you think?" Wrathion said, grinning up at Kalec.

Kalecgos blinked down at him for several moments then sighed. 

"Jaina knows I am here, Wrathion," Kalec told him.

"What?" Wrathion whiled around. Was this a trap? 

Kalec shook his head and set Wrathion back on the ground, no doubt emphasizing their great differences in size and power. Wrathion scowled. 

"Jaina knows I am here," Kalecgos repeated.

"Why did you tell her? I told you we didn't need to involve-"

"Because she is my mate, Wrathion. Because it would be wrong not to tell her." He sighed and continued. "You hurt her. Indirectly but you did. You enabled the scenario in which she died and you more directly hurt Anduin whom she thinks of as kin. Aside from that I love and respect her. She is my consort. Dragons do not keep important matters from their consorts."

Wrathion huffed and rolled his eyes. Pretty words and titles but they were all meaningless. Especially since she was a mere human.

"Beyond my personal attachments, she is the leader of the Kirin Tor and Archmages Zaliya and Khadgar are already here. She is also in a position to extend help to you as well."

"Unlikely. In enacting far greater and more important matters I stole from her the pleasure of seeing Hellscream die. I doubt she would extend help, as meager as a mortal mage can give," Wrathion snapped back.

Kalecgos chuckled. "Wrathion, I think you have a somewhat limited view of the situation. If you show good faith in your actions here then you would find yourself with ample assistance."

"Feh! No one gives anyone anything." He waved a dismissive paw. How could the blue now know this? Perhaps their isolation in the Nexus had made them far more ignorant of reality than Wrathion had expected. "And in any case my work is too important to wait for mere mortals to catch up." He sniffed. "We are dragons. We do what we want and as we please."

"We can," Kalec said. "So can everyone." He paused and stared at Wrathion as if making a very dire point. Wrathion waited for him to get on with whatever he was going to say. "While such things are more accepted among dragons culturally, we still have to face consequences for our actions. I do. You do. Even Alexstrasza does."

Wrathion muttered uncomplimentary things about Alexstrasza under his breath. "I think we're done here," he said aloud.

"I have a question for you before we depart."

Wrathion rolled his eyes and crossed his forepaws over his chest. "What?"

"What does your Charge mean to you?"

The younger dragon blinked. The question was quite unrelated to the topic at hand. "We were given dominion over the earth-"

"Not what I meant. What does it mean to you? Personally?"

Wrathion frowned. That was a stupid question with an obvious answer. "We protect Azeroth," he finally answered.

"But what does that mean?"

Wrathion's wings flapped. "Stop with the word games!" Why did no one just say what they meant to him? Then they chastised him for being young and stupid but he knew more than they did and yet they dismissed his prowess when he didn't play their stupid word games!

"No games. I am honestly asking."

Wrathion sputtered. was the blue thick? Did he honestly not know what the Charge was? "But- it's obvious! I protect Azeroth." He drew himself up and glared up at Kalecgos. "I am the last of the Black Flight and it is my duty to see that Azeroth doesn't come to harm."

"But what does that mean?"

"I keep answering you! Are you not listening?" What was wrong with Kalecgos? Was he suddenly speaking in a dialect the blue didn't understand?

"Protecting Azeroth is what you do," Kalec said. He touched a gentle clawtip to Wrathion's chest. "But you still need to decide what the Charge means to you. How you feel about it. How you connect to it. How you go about living it."

"I am!" Wrathion expected his wings, frustrated by the word game even if Kalec said he wasn't playing any.

"To an extent," Kalec allowed. "My charge is the keeping of magic and the management of it, but magic should not be hoarded. That was Malygos' great mistake. Magic should be appreciated and even enjoyed. I wish to see magic managed well, so I teach my appreciation, and my respect, to others. But these are not actions explicit in the instructions we received from Norgannon."

"We're dragons," Wrathion protested. "This is our purpose!"

"They are guiding forces in our lives and our society," Kalec said, "but they are not strict marching orders."

Wrathion growled. "Speak plainly!"

Kalec considered the whelp for a moment before answering. "When you say your charge is to protect Azeroth, I want you to think about what that means. Is Azeroth just the land or is it something more?"

Wrathion began to protest but then fell silent. Did he mean the people were Azeroth too? But his charge was the land? but-... Kalecgos leaned forward so he was almost snout to snout with the younger dragon.

"Consider that question seriously for a few days." He shifted back into his humanoid form and Wrathion followed, suit.

"What do you mean?" he asked, marching up to the blue.

"I mean I want to continue this conversation but you should consider the question seriously." Wrathion opened his mouth to protest again and Kalec held up a hand. "Figuring this out is something all dragons do, even black ones." 

Wrathion scowled. Again. He was being underestimated again.

Kalec nodded at Mage Neseema. "You have the tools you need to handle many of the threats here, but I will make myself available to you should you come across something more substantial."

"You aren't going to stop me?" Wrathion asked. "Or drag me back to Azeroth?"

Kalec shook his head. "No. That would serve no purpose." He nodded in the general direction of Shadowmoon. "I don't like the Legion anymore than you do. If you can do some good here in stopping them, then that is time well spent."

Wrathion digested that on the flight back to Taylor's Garrison. When they landed Wrathion gave him a gimlet eye but inclined his head very slightly and stalked back behind the palisade walls, leaving the blue and his mind games alone. He had what he needed from him for now.


	6. 31

_"When you say your charge is to protect Azeroth, I want you to think about what that means."_

Kalec's words lingered like an unpleasant odor Wrathion couldn't escape. He opened the grimoire and began to scan through the pages, looking for vital information but the question kept coming back and distracting him.

"Damn him and his stupid word games," Wrathion muttered.

"Your highness?" Right asked.

"Nothing, nothing," Wrathion said. "Blue dragons being nuisances with their inflated view of their own cleverness. Do you have word from the outpost?" he asked, referring to the encampment where the Horde aligned members of his Talons were operating.

"They've had some run-ins with man-sized insects recently. They were able to deter the beasts but send warning there are likely more. They also saw a convoy of goblins recently heading for the southern coast. They don't know what they're up to but our people were not seen," Right said. She stood loosely at attention as she gave her report. 

"News on the Shadow Council?"

"Nothing new, Your Highness."

"The remote-speaking device is working?" he asked. It had cost him a hefty sum. While he could pull gems and rare minerals from the world, it took time and effort and his attention was required elsewhere. If he spent all his time pulling up materials to fund his organization he would never have the time to do anything with that wealth.

"Very well," Right said, nodding.

"Good. I'll have something for them soon," Wrathion said as he scanned over a very detailed annotated map. "Ask Mage Neseema to come here. I would like her expert opinion."

Wrathion studied the map as he waited for Neseema to arrive. When she did he turned the book around on the table so she could see it. "What does this look like to you?"

The draenei's eyes narrowed. "That looks like an incomplete map of the leylines on draenor," she said. She traced a finger down the continent, stopping near the center where a sigil had been inked. "I don't know what this symbol means, but that's right where Archindouin is located."

"That's a revered site of some kind, yes?"

"Yes, but it is more than that, your highness. It is a mausoleum. A holy site."

"Graveyards and crypts? Why would they mark that on a map?"

"It's nearly the size of a city, Prince," Neseema explained. "It- In the other draenor it was shattered. Utterly. It's more than just a resting place for the bodies of the dead, you see. It is a place of respite for the souls of the departed. It was built to help shield us from the Legion, even in death." 

"I imagine a warlock or a necromancer could do a lot of damage with several thousand years of souls enslaved to his will," Wrathion murmured, rubbing at his chin. "We know Gul'dan's lieutenants Teran'gor and Ghul are in the area with some minions of their own. This is a likely target for them it seems. Would you agree?"

"I would agree with that assessment, yes," Neseema said, her eyes hard. "If they move into the area they will incur stiff resistance from what Draenei yet live on this world."

"Given how they've mostly been enslaved for two years there won't be that much to resist with," Wrathion pointed out. "The Horde and Alliance just got here and they're focused on Garrosh and the Iron Horde." He tapped his fingers on the map as he thought. "Interfering here won't change anything for the Iron Horde and will surely disrupt the Shadow Council and their demon masters." He looked past Neseema to Left who stood by the tent's entrance flap. "Send word to the others. I want Teran'gor and Ghul to die."

He found a piece of parchment and copied down the relevant details from the grimoire. Left took the paper and disappeared from the tent. Wrathion wasn't certain how she would pass word along, but he knew she would. He returned his attention to Neseema. "What else of note do you see here?"

"They find something interesting here on this island off the coast," she said, pointing to another sigil. "That's an ogre mage's rune, but I don't know the meaning."

"Do you recall what is on the island?"

The draenei frowned thoughtfully. "The Ashmaul ogres. Fire mages mostly, which I why I know anything about them at all, your majesty. They were part of the Gorian empire and we know they'd enslaved a few orcish clans. Then one day it all collapsed. The rest of the Ogres only rarely ventured onto the island in the Draenor I knew. They avoided it. My teachers said they believed the island was cursed."

"Is it?"

Neseema shrugged. "Occasionally someone would go looking. The last vestiges of the orcs live on the coast in small area. They never rose to anything of importance. There is power there. A lot of it, too, but none of my people ever found it. The leading theory was that something was discovered or made, probably with the intent of unseating the Highmaul ogres. They lost control and it killed them."

"Would this power be useful?" He nodded at Right who slipped back into the tent and took up a position at the side.

"I have no idea, your Majesty. None of my people ever found anything of use or we'd have used it against the Legion."

Wrathion nodded and made mental note of the island of Ashran for future investigation. Perhaps the Shadow Council had found something useful on the island or perhaps they'd merely marked it as a place of potential interest. He'd have someone dispatched to the island once his current targets had been executed... unless he could actively recruit. The limiting factor was manpower and supplies.

"Do you know how to teleport get there, by chance?" Wrathion asked.

"With regret I do not."

"This is one of the sites the Alliance is looking into, your Majesty," Right said, speaking up. "However I have heard this is one of the sites the Alliance is looking into building a more permanent settlement."

"If so then they'll be sending mages to learn portals there. Might be an opportunity," Neseema said.

"Look into it, Neseema," Wrathion said. "How did things fare here while I was out?" he asked Right.

His bodyguard shrugged. "Well enough. I believe the younger guard, Halberk might be willing to be engaged for coin. The other one might do well for the Talons but she is a wary sort."

"Good. We need people like that. Do you expect our compatriots at the outpost will need anything?"

"Probably some supplies if the local fauna isn't cooperative. Grey has a full report when you are ready," Right said.

"I'll speak with him now. Thank you, Neseema. If you hear anything more either Ashran, have further thoughts about the map or.... or if our strange Mr. Ephial does anything, please inform me."

The mage bowed. "Of course, your majesty."

As she left the tent, Right motioned and after a few moments Grey ducked inside. Wrathion gestured and the worgen assumed a relaxed crouch before the Black Prince.

"How does the Outpost fare?"

Grey cocked an ear, listening for outsiders then spoke. It wasn't necessary given the guard but Wrathion approved of the caution all the same.

"Bugs your majesty. Size of men. Our Hunters are having some trouble getting extra food because of them."

"They have been a trouble here as well. What else?"

"We've secured a small area for ourselves. The druids were able to coax the local flora into a series of shelters that cannot be seen from the air. Bit muggy here so we've been keeping an eye on our supplies in case of mold and rot. So far, so good. We're all chomping at the bit to do something. The others were a bit jealous they couldn't come here on caravan duty I think." The worgen's jaws lolled into a lupine grin. "So they'll be happy to hop to. They got orders and can I help?"

"I have sent word to them of what I require. We're going to hunt down two targets in talador - Teran'gor and Ghul. Two Warlocks of the Shadow Council. What provisions will they need?"

Grey scratched at his shaggy beard. "Travel rations. If you can spare the mage, that'd help. If we're gonna tangle with the council direct-like I think we'll need medical provisions. We'll probably need to send at least one of the druids and this is gonna tax 'em. They'll be looked to for a place to set up forward camps, help heal and do a bit of scouting. We don't have much in the ways of potions on-hand."

Wrathion nodded. "I will see them provisioned as best as I can do now and then with additional supplies as I can manage them. As for now, make yourself useful, keep your ears open."

"Aye, Prince Wrathion." Grey understood the dismissal for what it was and rose, leaving the tent.

Wrathion followed a moment later. The sun was setting on the garrison and the scent of dinner was beginning to fill the air. Wrathion turned his eyes northward, in the direction of this Auchindoun. His orders had been relayed and now all there was to do on that front but wait. He turned his attention to the people here and smiled. But until hear heard more, there was much he could do here.


End file.
